《Cannibal Kings - A Dark Coming of Age Fantasy》


 Prologue

    ARNOK


    "What do you know of the broken seas?"


    Arnok grips the hussy by the hem of her collar. When he first laid eyes on her, he could only think, This woman is fiercely beautiful. He is not sure where she came from. All he knows is that she snuck onto this ship, hidden in a wine barrel, sometime between yesterday and their depature from Enya, and that her hair is the most luscious known to man. An even split down the skull between dark brown and blond, curly, cut choppily around her shoulders, but it works. Her face is perfectly symmetrical, with one eye blue and the other brown. A totally inhuman enigma. She must be around twenty or so, but there is no touch of plague on her. Her skin physically glows. No growths molding from her cheeks, no horns atop her head, no nails that are rotting and slowly curving into claws. No, she is womanly.


    She smells salty, like the ocean that rocks the Nell back and forth. The Nell, Arnok¡¯s precious ship. Well, not his. Technically, he is only a crew member, an acquaintance of Daidu who got him the job for a less than decent amount of pay, but Arnok takes an immense amount of pride in the Nell nonetheless. The others on the ship seem to like him enough. They are always laughing at everything he does. They call him the Gooner, whatever that means.


    His crew watch on the sidelines, gripping the wooden railings, utterly bemused. Arnok and the woman stand at the hem of the ship, ignoring the waves that crash against the sides, rocking it so harshly that most would struggle to keep afoot. But the claws that extend from Arnok¡¯s bare feet prevent him from sliding.


    ¡°The broken seas?¡± he repeats. He laughs lowly. ¡°You speak so cryptic.¡±


    She smirks, staring at him with those gorgeous two-toned eyes.


    ¡°Come on, Arnok, put her out!¡± Damgel yells.


    ¡°Slave cellar¡¯s right open!¡± cries Forja.


    ¡°Not before you kiss her!¡± someone else says.


    ¡°Yeah, pass her here, Arnok. Don¡¯t be greedy!¡±


    An abundance of laughter. Crude jokes are made and Arnok turns the woman around, showing off her hair and the neck beneath it. She doesn¡¯t flinch or swat him away like many women tend to do, for some reason. She might be the first woman to ever find him charming.


    He leans in and whispers into her ear, ¡°You¡¯re a sweetheart. What¡¯s your name?¡±


    Before she can answer, a familiar, lilting voice booms from the deck above. ¡°The broken seas? I know they lead to a faraway star no one has seen.¡±


    Heads whip around, facing Captain Crimiot as he stands above the deck, his dark hair flowing against the billowing wind, wearing red lapels and a matching jacket, so that he emulates nobility. There are golden cusps around his wrists and golden jewels hanging from his chest, his ears¨Cpierced with a pointed stone, people say. Crimiot came from Mecraentos Kingdom, from the Inner City itself. It¡¯s well known that the toughest men in Mecraentos hardly look it. They are not the biggest nor the strongest, as most are too malnourished to be made of anything but bone. When Arnok, a man who¡¯d worked in the icy tundras of the Cratic, laid eyes on him, he¡¯d laughed. It was a mistake. Despite his demeanor, Crimiot has an inordinate amount of strength. His punches can force a man back thirty legs, sending them literally flying in the air.


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    Besides that, Crimiot is a¡­ respectable captain, Arnok has to admit. He is competent. He has a good head. Maybe not the best. Maybe he plays things too safe, but he is well-liked by the crew and has managed to greatly expand their clauk flower smuggling business, an intoxicant to people on the Ten Islands. He hasn¡¯t expanded their crew at all, aside from the addition of Arnok himself, but he¡¯s certainly kept his people friendly. A little too friendly, in Arnok¡¯s opinion. The Nell is still too small and unknown to have any say or notoriety in the game of ocean smugglers. Crimiot claims he¡¯d rather have a small crew he trusted with his whole heart than a large, fierce army. Arnok snorted at that one. Crimiot called him a child.


    ¡°You may take refuge on our ship,¡± Crimiot says. ¡°Or, at least, you may take refuge with me. Arnok, let go of the poor woman.¡±


    He does so. She¡¯s not the first pretty woman he would have lost to Crimiot, who racks up his lovers in drones. Every island, every kingdom, every colony they visit women flock to him. Women from the rest of the world are different from strong, Cratic women, Arnok has determined. They like soft edges and easy smiles over bouts of strength. While he can appreciate that, an easy smile does not save you from the violence of the real world. An easy smile may help with a con, but it does not beat a knife or claws or sharpened teeth when it rips the flesh of your woman¡¯s neck. The way that stupid bastard in Sal Gasve did to Vita, Arnok¡¯s first real lover.


    ¡°My name is Masja,¡± the woman says.


    ¡°Masja,¡± Crimiot repeats. He steps down and pushes Arnok aside, as though he were worth nothing more than a corkscrew. ¡°Your eyes. They are¡­ I nearly thought you were myth.¡±


    She waves a hand and manages a small curtsy. Not a real curtsy. A mocking one.


    ¡°Suns.¡± Forja, who has been part of the crew for far longer than Arnok, has managed her way beside him. She¡¯s taller than him and of deeper voice, which bothers Arnok enough to the point that he keeps his distance from her. ¡°Her legs. Look.¡±


    Flowers are traveling up Masja¡¯s boots, her legs, curling around the knees. They are not real flowers. They are made of wooden growths borne of the ship¡¯s planks, steadily crawling higher and higher up her calves and thighs, like plague-growth that appears as black veins on skin. For Arnok, it is most prominent on his back. But something about these wooden plants is severely more sinister than those veins.


    ¡°Witch,¡± Arnok whispers. ¡°She¡¯s a witch.¡°


    ¡°Shut up,¡± Crimiot says, his gaze not taken off the woman¡¯s. There¡¯s a harshness to his voice that Arnok does not usually associate with the man.


    Crimiot reaches out to grab the witch¡¯s hand. Arnok thinks she is going to slap him away but, of course, because he is Crimiot, she does not. He gently kisses her knuckles. ¡°You¡¯re supposed to be dead,¡± Crimiot says.


    ¡°So are you,¡± she says. ¡°Enlightened.¡±


    A couple of crew members gasp. More laugh at the absurd title. Many give each other looks, as if saying, ¡®Did you hear that right?¡¯


    Arnok laughs at his captain, a deep guttural sound that is founded entirely upon pure shock. Enlightened? Crimiot is no Enlightened.


    ¡°I can show you the remnants of that faraway star,¡± the witch says. ¡°But it is hardly glowing. I may be the only guide left.¡±


    It¡¯s a code, Arnok realizes. They are speaking in code.


    Crimiot nods and offers his arm to her, but not the crook of it. No, he extends his arm out fully. In which, she ducks beneath it, letting her head be caught between the arm. It is a weird, awkward position and yet Crimiot¡¯s face glows in another way that Arnok does not associate with the man. While soft, he is not typically happy.


    ¡°We must talk,¡± Crimiot says. ¡°I have many questions. I thought the Anlat were gone forever.¡±


    ¡°And I have few answers,¡± she responds as he leads her into his personal cabin-room, the flower-growths snaking back into the ground, ignoring the jests and laughs and many, many shouts of confusion from his crew. He never ignores his crew.


    Unless this witch of wood is a goddess, Arnok cannot possibly imagine what she means to Crimiot if he were to blatantly ignore the will of his crew like this. No righteous captain would put aside his men like that, unanswered.


    ¡°Enlightened,¡± Forja whispers. ¡°The flowers.¡°


    ¡°What?¡± Arnok says.


    ¡°You bonehead,¡± she snaps. ¡°You¡¯re too stupid for your own good.¡±


    ¡°I don¡¯t understand you,¡± Arnok says.


    ¡°She¡¯s Enlightened too, Goon.¡±


    ¡°Impossible. The only thing enlightening about her is her radiating skin.¡±


    Forja slaps him across the face.

 Ash and Stone I - Asaio

    ASAIO


    I tighten my cloak and hood to better protect myself from the rain, tightenin the embrace of the man whose skin it''s made from.


    He was the leathery sort, grayin from the plague, nearly monochrome by the time he finally lost his mind. Ellie-Darlin used to call him Mono-Man cause she couldn''t ever remember his name. Even if she did, she wouldn''t be able to pronounce it correctly. Her Tanasoran accent''s far too thick and hearin ain''t good enough. I called him Mono-Man cause the name Hstasian''s too weird to say and my tongue just don''t roll like that.


    He was Seht''s uncle. Not blood uncle, but his uncle. So when Seht joined the gang, he became our uncle too. For a good five cycles, he oversaw us kids, made sure we didn''t get up into too much trouble, but he was a dyin man. He''d been the oldest man I''d ever known--thirty somethin, Seht always says, even though I think he was older.


    It''s real rare for the plague to grant you the ''gift'' of communicatin with animals, cause there ain''t almost any left, but Mono-Man was one of those few who could. They were bugs. I don''t know what bugs they were, but they were real big with beady yellow eyes and heads larger than my torso and bitin organs like razor blades protrudin from those same heads. I never knew where they came from, just that he could summon em with the flick of a hand.


    I remember, before the plague got to his mind, he would call upon the bugs that loomed over tourist coaches and he would have them do dances. If we were ever in a quick or somethin, he''d summon em over and scare the livin Soul outta whoever''d gotten us into a pinch (or whoever we''d pinched, more likely). He''d been able to sense acids and smoke-things in the air from hundreds of legs away. Helped us with traps. Helped us keep from bein in factories with poisonous air and probably added five or so cycles to our lives.


    Since his gift was so rare, he could have been anyone. His Soul was probably Purer than any of us ever realized, but he never got it checked. Instead, he decided to stay with Seht, keep him safe.


    I loved him for that, even if he couldn''t ever love me the same sort of way cause of his affliction with lovin more than two kids at a time, and those two would always be Ellie-Darlin and his darlin nephew.


    Slowly, his skin became leather and then patches on his arms developed the same scales that''s encapsulated those bug bodies. His nose grew big too. He didn''t think about blood or anythin like we always feared he would. Instead, he began to yell bout needin sugar all the time. He tried to gnaw on Ellie-Darlin''s hair once, sayin she was always so sweet, the prettiest sugar, which was weird cause she was eleven at the time--this was two cycles ago. Then the plague really hit. Began to gnaw at his mind, so he didn''t just look and occasionally act funny.


    It started with the way he talked. one side of his mouth became paralyzed and the other one just couldn''t do all that heavy liftin. Then it changed to what he talked about. Began talkin bout visions, of seein glyphs in his mind. He was lashin out at Ellie-Darlin before the rest of us, screamin at her incoherently, throwin glass and stuff. Only person he''d ever hurt was Seht and that''s cause he''s the only person in the world who''d ever seen Seht as the golden, perfect child. I''d love him a little for that too, that he loved Seht in a way I never could, even if it led to cruelty. Always cruelty. Then his mouth began to bleed from one side. Pores opened up on one side of the cheek and it was a real nasty spill to clean up, but it gave us a lot to donate to the Slaughter Houses, so we were livin sort of rich then, gettin paid for each bucket-loud.


    Mono-Man called us sinful creatures and tried to bite at our arms and our legs while we slept. He could never sit still and threw out his back chasin Vernon and Uyala and me down the stairs of our hobble late at night.


    One night, when he was a little more coherent, he told us not to send him to the Slaughter Houses. He said to ''make somethin of him.'' Well, not told ''us.'' He''d told Seht, but I like to think he wanted to say it to all of us, even if he only loved Seht and Ellie. So Seht he''d said, "Give my life something meaning. Give my life eyes and give them eyes I can see through, you wicked child. Make a cloak from my skin, make a crown of my hair, make a necklace of my fingernails, make a feast of my insides, but don''t send me to those Slaughter Houses, no. Those sinners. Don''t send me to one of those." So we didn''t.


    I''d gotten the cloak and hood of his skin. Ellie-Darlin got his crown of hair, which she wears more as a neck-laurel than a crown. Flynn got the necklace of his nails. Uyala got a doll carved of his bones. Seht got an amulet of his eyes. And, of course, we''d had a feast of his insides.


    I''ve worn that cloak nearly every day after he died. Lets me feel semi-close, closer than I did while the man was alive.


    The rain is pourin hard, a thunderous storm. I''ve gotten three bruises on one arm already, sittin on watch in the open like this.


    The corrugated rooftop is slanted so much I have to tie myself with a long dead-vine to keep from slidin off. My back is against the open window of a slanted, sorrowin buildin that''s more hunched than Mono-Man had been. The cloak keeps me warm but it mainly keeps me hidden. Mono-Man''s skin had become so gray it appeared almost black, and it helps me blend into the shadows.


    All around me, there''s the forest of similar buildins. Mecraentos was built like a messy paintin, specially down here in the slummish parts. I don''t think they''re all that slummish, but that''s what the tourists all say when they come passin by on their fancy coaches and in their fancy breeches with their fancy hats. I like to think Mecraentos is just tight-knit.


    Buildins clumped together, borne of infected trees that grew together with branches and trunks interlinked. Weaved rooves and wooden beams were built to give em some semblance of structure. Carved are doors and windows, covered with thick blankets and tattered sheets to keep the rain out. A lot of the buildins have covers over the tops of the rooves, weaved from even thicker leaves. I help out with those sometimes, for people in our gang and for normal people just livin in our district.


    The streets ain''t really streets but alleyways that naturally formed as a result of the buildins bein too close to each other. The moons are shinin brightly overhead, illuminatin the street so much that all the glowshroom lanterns are turned off.


    The street below me is not empty but bustlin with walkin peoples and a few coaches. Not the sort we''re lookin for, though.


    I''m about forty-legs from the ground, I think. Could kill me if I fell, but I won''t, cause the leaves got me.


    Twenty legs below me, sittin on a balcony that''s barely hangin onto dear life, is Ellie-Darlin, watchin the door of the Dome. She''s sittin in a squat position, ready to pounce when necessary. Her near-white hair''s tied up in a tight bun. She keeps her eyes intensely focused on the road, probably in fear that she''ll forget why she''s there in the first place, or who she''s supposed to be lookin our for. I can only see her between the wooden structural boards cause the leaves point me towards her direction.


    I ask the leaves to do somethin similar with the others.


    Flynn''s on the roof of our singular Temple of Valka, shrouded beside the spiral turrets and the braided wood-coverins. He''s sittin in the best place cause there''s a real roof and so his skin will be spared from the colossal rain. I can only see the edge of his bare foot, but I know he''s probably huggin his knees, listenin keenly with one of his snakes wrapped round his head and the other round his arm. Can''t go anywhere without the scaly Nep and Pen.


    Seht''s to my right. He sits unmoving, like a statue. He does that a lot. Stops blinkin. Sometimes stops breathin. It''s a bit unnervin, but I''ve gotten used to it. He''s the one to give the signal that we can step in, since his hearin''s the best as it''s enhanced from the plague. Pick apart the cacophonous street, Flynn had said. The plague is causin Flynn and Ellie-Darlin to become a little deaf, so Seht is the most viable option. Besides, he can also see well in the dark.


    The Lime Men are one of many gangs in Mecraentos. They''re pretty well-known. They''re not the Rubies or anythin, but they ain''t exactly willin to let a group of rouse-housin kids slide, like some of the less territorial are. They keep to their own, we keep to our own. Till they messed with our only provider.


    See, us kids, we don''t got any territory or anythin like that. Nothin to call our own but a gruffy warehouse as our home and Punnet Street. Sort of.


    Punnet Street''s an extremely slim walk of a neighborhood. Probably about twenty-five famillies livin there. Not everyone likes us, that''s why they ain''t exactly ours. They''d never respect a ''gang'' of kids and teens, but they''re kinder to us than most and there''s one man that managed to be approved by the Crown to set up shop. A good one, too. He''s a seeder, growin crop in his own backyard. Hard to find those with a green thumb now, since the soil''s all mucked up and plague-ridden like it is. But he''s got it. His name is Michie.


    He has to share most of his crop with the Industry, of course, but those extra pieces he grows go to the people on Punnet and, if he''s feelin real kind and the Suns are wonderful enough to bless him with a doubly-extra crop, then he gives some to us kids. So he''s a provider. And it''s lovely. We eat well those days of the spreadin season.


    Or we would''ve, till the Lime Men kidnapped him three days ago. We didn''t find out till two days ago, when Miss Madge came cryin to Vernon and askin if he could go scoutin, since she was too scared to do it herself. Madge is Michie''s sister. I thought she was his wife at first, but marriage ain''t really common since the War.


    The woman''s a lover--loves her brother to death, clearly, if she''s willin to put his life in the hands of a few kids. She said she and others on the Street would''ve gone to get Michie themselves, except they''re all too frail and plague-ridden to stand a chance against the Lime Men.


    See, what makes the Lime Men so special ain''t that they''re particularly politically movin or anythin like that, like the Rubies. No, it''s cause they''ve got Sniffer on in their ranks. He''s a real old guy. Not as old as Mono Man, but nearly. People say he''s gonna be the oldest livin man since he came from a family of ''herbalists.'' I''d never heard of an herablist in my life till he appeared in our city. All I can figure is that herbalists are magic workers, blessed by the Suns, probably, and I don''t get why they ain''t noticed by any Temple-goers.


    Other gangs have reported seein Lime Men drink magic elixirs from Sniffer when they''re havin bad plague symptoms. Then those men are walkin round fine and dandy the day right after. It''s insane.


    None of the lickers give a damn bout a missin man or a kidnappin, so askin us to acquire him was the next best thing, I guess.


    I hug my cloak tighter to my chest. "Anythin?"


    Seht''s mouth hardly moves when he speaks. "Still quiet. I don''t like that. Feels like they''re doing something to keep me from hearing."


    Seht plays with the necklace made of Mono Man''s eyes. He''s nervous.


    "How long''s it been?" I ask.


    Seht don''t respond.


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    I wait a few more seconds before gesturin with a hand. I have the leaves that surround me find Flynn again and urge them to tickle the sides of his exposed feet. I don''t hear the light gasp that happens, but I''m assumin there is one cause Seht turns very suddenly towards me with a glare.


    "Asaio," he says.


    "Hm?"


    "Don''t do that. Don''t go on distracting Flynn when he''s on edge. I can hear him whispering sweet-nothings to his snakes."


    "Sorry, sir."


    "And don''t you go on calling me that."


    "Yes, sir."


    He stares at me for a second before smilin lightly. I send a thin branch to tickle the edge of that grin. He swats the branch with an unnecessary amount of force.


    "That tree didn''t do nothin to you," I say, reachin over to hug him.


    He pushes me aside. "Your cloak''s all wet."


    "It''s like a double hug," I say. "From me and Mono Man."


    He sighs irritably. "Don''t say that, Asaio."


    Out of us all, Seht looks the oldest. With his hair cut in a short bob and bangs that make his face look low and droopy, and eyes that are dark and cloudy. He''s actually the youngest of us, but his baggy clothes hide his bony frame. He''s around twelve. Nearly half done with life, I like to joke, but he doesn''t take to that too kindly cause, where he''s from, people are supposed to live around thirty cycles before they''re taken by the plague, not twenty. In Mecraentos City, we call those miracle cases. He says I ain''t allowed to joke like that cause I haven''t got the plague, and I guess that''s true, so I should probably stop.


    I shift my focus back to the street.


    Three more coaches pass. Not a single one''s the one we want.


    Right as my brain is startin to tap out and think of other things, like the blood branch stew I''m hopin Genavieve and Mustletop''ve been cookin up in our absence, Seht whispers, "It''s this one. I can hear Michie''s whining from all the way up top. There''s maybe... forty legs down the road? Go cover the brush-side now."


    I press my tongue to the roof of my mouth, makin a loud, audible click. To everyone else, it probably just sounds like the rain hittin a weird piece of metal or somethin. But to Ellie-Darlin and Flynn, it''s a signal.


    I undo the rope that''s keepin me held and, carefully, stand up. Since the rooftop''s so slanted, I start to slip, but Seht reaches out a hand to keep me up. I dig my feet as deeply into the wood as I can and pull on the ends of droopin branches to bring me up the rooftop, so I''m standin on the thin middle edge where it divides into two slopin points. I scurry over the top till I''m bout twenty legs away from the others.


    Here, the road shifts outward to be less of an alley between two buildins and more of an open, traditional road, like the ones rumored to be in the Fortress. It''s even slightly cobbled. But you know it ain''t the road of nobles cause it''s overwrought with grayin vegetarian growth. Trimmers who''re both poor and Genai--most people are Genai in this district--don''t do a great job of keepin it tidy.


    I raise my hand and listen for the whispers of the branches. When I was first told this wasn''t normal, I started to listen more carefully. I thought the winds that people describe were the whispers. I ask the branches if they can oh-so-sweetly cover up the last bit of the road. I''d have done it earlier, but we all agreed we didn''t want to inconvenience the normal coaches.


    The branches whisper back, a lullin song that tingles the back of my brain. They start to move, weavin themselves into a barrier on the street. A thick fence of tightly interwoven vegetation.


    "Thank you," I whisper aloud, before turnin around and clickin my tongue so Seht knows I''m done.


    I stay here, waitin for Flynn to direct the coach my direction.


    We''d spent most of the evenin watchin Lime Men territory to get a better sense of where they might''ve taken Michie. All coaches look the same so they were a bit hard to look out for but we soon realized that the Lime Men carve their initials into every carriage they steal--LM into every rounded surface. While Flynn and Seht were on watch, they''d seen Michie be thrown into one of them coaches and into one of the cellar-houses the Lime Men got. See, those are their famous torture houses.


    Flynn and Seht had spent the rest of the hours watchin to see if Michie was dead or not, if the Lime Men would come out with him battered and bruised a few hours later or dead. He came out black and red, but breathin. Seht''d said that he''d overheard the Lime Men demandin that Michie give an unreasonable share of his crop to them, a number that would overlap what he owes weekly to the Industries. Michie said he''d give them everythin, includin what he had left in his apartment.


    Flynn and Seht came to the rest of us, and we''d come up with this plan, knowin they''d have to take this road in order to make it back to Punnet Street.


    I hear the clatter of the wooden wheels before I hear the frightened shouts of the driver.


    The Lime Men''s coach is not the cheap sort. With fragile wooden wheels and a body of tarp. It''s steam powered, a puff of white cloud comin out from a metal pipe at the top of it. Steam powered engines are a new sorta thing and none of us kids understand how they work, but Flynn and Ellie-Darlin are hopin to enroll in one of them fancy schools to learn to build em.


    Right now, slithered between those wheels, are Flynn''s twin snakes, Nep and Pen. We only know they''re called snakes cause they told Flynn so. They have grayish-green scales and bodies bout twenty legs long.


    Nep and Pen force the wheels to turn towards the road block I''d created, forcin the coach into a path of collision. Then they slither up the top and climb into the engine, pluggin the thing up and forcin the carriage to a stutterin stop. The driver who, accordin to Vernon''s not-exactly-comprehensive-mental-file of the Lime Men, should be called Laxxy, a mousy sort of man with a real annoyin high-pitched voice. His screams are even worse.


    He sits exposed on the front of the coach. He''s covered entirely in a long black cloak and hood, though, so I can''t get a look at him.


    The carriage barrels into the barrier I''d built, crashin head-first. I smile and click, but my friends are already boundin towards me.


    Ellie-Darlin leaps from rooftop to rooftop with a grace the rest of us simply do not possess--it''s got nothin to do with the plague. She leaps ten feet into the air, nearly flyin. That is her gift from the plague. On the ground, runnin with a speed much faster than my own, is Seht. He yells, "He''s in there! Ellie, stop the driver and grab Michie!"


    The door to the carriage gets thrown open with a deafenin creak. Steppin out are two brutish lookin men, with gruffy necks and untrimmed hair, who''s plague is makin their skin peel off and their eye sockets so deep they look more like skeleton than man. They''re probably twice the size of each of us. I''m not sure what their names air, but I know they are in perfect physical condition, despite their plague-ridden appearance, thanks to Sniffer''s elixers.


    Nep and Pen slither around the first man''s neck, chokin him. Two tusks are growin out the side of the man''s mouth. He grabs the end of Nep and smashes her against that tusk, piercin her side. She hisses and her sister hisses in return.


    The second man is bein taken care of by Seht, who pounces on him.


    Seht''s good in a quick one. He came from Sal Gasve, a city even tougher than ours, but I know immedietly that, despite his upbringin, enhanced strength, eyesight, and speed, he can''t beat this gruff man. It''s hard to remember how strong men grow to be when they ain''t malnourished and dyin.


    With his extra speed and strength, Seht should have been able to dodge the man''s punches. This man''s muscle is unnatural, almost breakin through his skin in blood blisters, so aromatic my mouth waters from up here. But this man''s got to have extra strength too. He grips Seht by the arm and throws the shoulder backwards in a near circular turn. I wince as Seht gasps. Doesn''t scream, just gasps. Seht kicks at the man''s knee, but he don''t relent, so Seht grips the collar of the man''s think frock and heaves it forward, tryin to counterbalance the weight.


    Workin quickly, I have the barrier I''d created of the branches and brush creep around the scene, enclosin the fighters in a tight circle around the coach, so no one is able to make a run for it. When that''s done, I reach out for a particularly thick branch and send it flyin at the head of the man who''s got Seht in a hold.


    Ellie-Darlin leaps at the driver, Laxxy, who''s just startin to come to his senses. He dodges her, rollin onto the ground, the cloak tightenin round his body, landin near the man who''s bein strangled by Nep and Pen. Ellie tries launchin at him again, but Laxxy kicks her in the knees and tries to climb over the brush blockade. With a wave of the hand and whispers deafeninme, I shake him off and give the man who''s givin Seht a heard time another whack in the head. Seht is on the ground, bloody. A contest of brute-strength he can''t win.


    I hear footsteps above me. I know it''s Flynn, runnin across the rooftops, ready to leap down and extract Michie from the carriage. I imagine the old man to be curled up in a fetal ball.


    Nep is thrown across the road and lays there, unmovin.


    I have the brush collect her and pull her away from the fightin, while her sister bites into the man with more vigor.


    Flynn climbs down the edge of the buildin we stand on, and seems fine, so I refocus my attention on Seht, who''s been shoved to the ground for a third time. I send three waves of branches into the man''s side, jabbin him over and over. Then I have those branches twist round his legs, so he collapses onto the ground. With him incapacitated, Seht leaps onto the man''s neck, diggin his sharp, carnivorous teeth deep. The man squirms and writhes, but I don''t let the branches go.


    But havin to divert my attention like this is makin me lose connection with the branches that are keepin the fightin enclosed into one small space.


    "Ellie, behind you!" Seht yells.


    Except Seht didn''t yell that cause he''s rippin apart the neck of the big one, tearin holes into his flesh.


    I start to yell out a warnin to Ellie-Darlin, but she''s already leapt into the air, back to the driver.


    An arrow is shot into her back.


    I whip around towards the direction the arrow came right as I catch Flynn get caught in a scurry. He''d managed to pull Michie out of the car, but the driver''s stabbed him with a knife. His cloak flies into the air and I see the bottom of a quiver. Whoever this driver is, it''s not Laxxy. Laxxy was supposed to be dumb as a boulder. Only good for keepin routes in his head. Unless our information''s wrong, and that''s very likely with Vernon not-so-comprehensive files.


    Pen is thrown across the ground in a similar manner as her sister. Seht comes runnin to Flynn''s rescue. He punches the driver in the face, knockin his hood back.


    That man is not mousy-Laxxy. This man''s got red hair, fallin uncut to the shoulders, thin and plastered wet to his skull.


    The carriage had been intercepted before we''d even got to it, I realize.


    The man who''d bested Nep and Pen comes staggerin, but one of his eyes have been torn out by the snakes. I click in warning.


    The red-head reacts instantly, raisin the bow hidden from his cloak and shoots the second man. He misses.


    I send a wave of branches round the second man and wrap them against his skull, squeezin, while Seht uses the wet ground to slide between his legs, takin one calf in his hand and draggin the flesh. The red-head shoots again, hits the man''s treasure. The man steps on Seht''s face and pulls out a dagger, diggin it into Seht''s shoulder even though he can''t see. I have the branches squeeze the man tighter round the neck. He goes limp. He dies.


    I''m startin to see stars.


    Bein able to talk to the branches takes a lot out of me, eventually, as though each action that I command is sapped from my own stamina. That''s part of the reason why I''m never fightin with my friends. The main reason is that no one has ever heard of someone who''s been able to whisper to leaves, somethin inanimate. I am always the surprise factor. I am to be hidden.


    I collapse onto my knees, tryin to orient myself.


    Seht gets up and barrels at our fake driver.


    "Wait!" Michie yells, still crouched at the door of the carriage, as Seht punches the red-head again in the face.


    Flynn and Ellie-Darlin grab Michie while I create a small openin in the wall of branches for them.


    "Wait, wait, wait!" Michie says. "Don''t hurt him!"


    Seht''s lookin real dangerous. Blood and flesh drippin from the edges of his mouth, the rain hardly washin away his bloody footsteps, his hair sticky and black.


    Michie''s small and extremely plague-ridden. His skin is covered in feathers, his legs have lost so much fat they''re nearly sticks. When Seht turns to face the older man, it is like a predator turnin to his prey.


    It''s clear neither the red-head or Seht know who Michie is referrin to by ''him.''


    "Asher," Michie says, his words slurred because the skin of his mouth is slowly mergin together. "Dun shoot this boy, or none of his friends. They''s are just tryna save me too."


    "What?" Asher says.


    His voice sounds as young as ours, and I can immediately detect a foreign accent.


    WIth this moment of rest, I realize my hold on all the branches. Black spots pepper my vision. I know if I black out now, I''m gonna go slidin down the rooftop. It could kill me if I land incorrectly, and I got to stay hidden.


    I click loudly. Three clicks. Help.


    Seht taps Ellie''s shoulder and nods in my direction. She leaps into the air, an arrow stickin out of her back, climbin up the rooftop. I let myself collapse into her arms. I pull the cloak around my head to cover my face. The hooded part is masked.


    She leaps to the ground with me clung onto her like a desperate orphan. The landin ain''t that smooth and we take a tumble. I groan as my head rocks and my vision suddenly blacks out for a second. Normally, we wouldn''t let anybody see me, in case someone connects the movin branches to the weird kid and report me to the lickers, but Michie knows this boy, and we could always kill him if he says somethin.


    "Asher." Michie waves a hand at Seht and Flynn, who is tenderly whisperin to his snakes. "These are the Garnets."


    I expect Asher to say somethin along the lines of, "The Garnets?"


    He doesn''t. He levels us, eyein us warily. He shifts his gaze to Seht, then to Ellie-Darlin and I.


    "They''re hurt," he says, in that weird foreign accent. The words aren''t sharp and prickly, like Ellie''s Tanasoran accent. They''re smooth, rounded, almost slurred.


    Michie claps a hand on Seht''s shoulder. He don''t even wince. "Thank yous so, so much."


    "Your sister will remind you of our price when we make it back to Punnet," Seht says. The glee quickly disappears from Michie''s face.


    Ellie-Darlin taps me on the chest. My head was startin to droop, my eyes startin to flutter shut. "Are you able to walk?" she asks.


    "With your help."


    "Can you stay awake?"


    "I''m sure hopin so."

 Ash and Stone II - Nadya

    NADYA


    I often find comfort in Kaki¡¯s predictability.


    Carrying a green glowshroom lamp, I venture towards the blockaded section of the Fortress. The Tyn Wing is what the nobles call it, named after the class for the most fractured Souls.


    Most of the Fortress is wide, sprawling, and beautiful. It¡¯s Mecraentos¡¯ capital, a city within a building, made over the course of two hundred cycles, Kaki¡¯s tutors have said. I don¡¯t know how many legs long it is, or how tall it reaches towards the sky, but it is large enough for thousands of families to be housed. The Fortress is built like one giant elongated circle¨CKaki called it a cylinder or something¨Cwith over a hundred floors with hundreds of room that reach up, up, up into the sky until it almost feels like you can¡¯t see it anymore. The outskirt of it is all roofed, but the courtyard is not. So we can always see the sky. And we are never fully protected from the storms.


    Kaki¡¯s never to be seen in the public eye when it rains, whether it be a sprinkle or a raging storm that leaves us all hiding out in the shelters, waiting for the rumble. He likes to seclude himself dozens and dozens of floors and rooms away from the pestering fanatics and non-fanatics and fussy teachers and advisors that he thinks occupy too much of his time.


    He¡¯ll be sitting in the near-dark with a stack of books. He probably forgot a lantern, so he¡¯s probably squinting, hoping the slowly clouding Suns will stay risen just long enough for him to finish one more chapter. Or, if he¡¯s not reading, he will be staring at the wall, thinking. He can do that for hours.


    I rush into the Tyn Wing to keep the rain off me, my hands over my hair, which is already frizzing into an unstylish mess. If I ruin this dress, Missus Yarna will probably keep me from going out for a whole cycle.


    The Tyn Wing is the most battered down and beaten from the War, the least renovated. And I don¡¯t think it¡¯ll ever be. It¡¯s the smallest of the ten wings, only built to reach fifteen stories, but was cut down to seven. The top of it¡¯s been brutally broken down into jagged edges and unfinished wood scalings.


    Kaki said his tutors said that there were a lot of poisonous animals that lived here, so the air was once toxic. It must not be anymore if we¡¯re still alive, cycles into our habit of sneaking where we are not supposed to.


    I bound up the spiraling staircase, ignoring the creepy shadows that form from my lamp. Phantoms three times my size follow me, silent against the loudness of my footsteps. I channel the energy of the plague to speed myself up. My gift. When I do so, it doesn¡¯t feel like my feet are feet anymore.


    I have to pause for a second to breathe.


    I have lesser plague symptoms than most my age¨Cjust some rotting in my ear and a weakness in my knees, ironically. I try to take advantage of my gift while I still can.


    Kaki always changes the room he resides in. It¡¯s a pattern, he says, a pattern he¡¯s observed in nature, but I still cannot figure it out. He always reminds me, there¡¯s seventy rooms in total in the wing. On the first day, he was in the very first room. He was there the second day too. Then it was the second room. Then it was the third, and I thought that was the pattern. But then he went to the fifth room. Then the eighth. The thirteenth, the twenty-first, the thirty-fourth, the fifty-fifth, then back to the eighth. The ninth. The fourteenth. I do not actually care enough to remember which rooms he has been in on which days, but he likes to remind me. He will remind me again today. This is another way he is predictable.


    His pattern is predictable, he admits so, I just have to figure it out.


    Because I cannot read the printed letters that indicate the numbers, I have to count each door that I come across.


    The rain is distracting, but I don¡¯t think he¡¯s on the first floor, so I travel up the second. I pass by each of the doors before stopping at the seventh, the seventeenth in total.


    I press the door open with my shoulder, the lamp jingling against my leg.


    ¡°I found you,¡± I say.


    Kaki smiles at me. ¡°You did! Faster than usual, too.¡±


    This room is bigger than my own quarters. It is circle shaped and completely unfurnished, except for a torn up drape and a tarp over a dusty blob. He sits in the far-back corner, beneath a window for light. I was right. A stack of books to his side. Right again. He wears an expensive looking coat of white hair but, other than that, it¡¯s clear he didn¡¯t put much effort into his appearance. His long, dark hair is pulled back for better reading but reveals his big forehead. And he smells a bit.


    I don¡¯t mind. I take a seat beside him. I¡¯ve smelt worse doing his laundry.


    Kaki¡¯s a little older than me but treats me like we¡¯re the same thirteen, like we are really equals, even though he¡¯s the son of an Enlightened, Pure as can be, and I am his maid-in-training.


    ¡°Seventeen?¡± I ask.


    ¡°You still don¡¯t get it?¡±


    I frown. ¡°Not all of us are smart, Kaki.¡±


    ¡°You¡¯re plenty smart.¡±


    ¡°No, I¡¯m not.¡±


    ¡°You just need to be taught.¡± He waves his book.


    I shake my head. ¡°My eyes will burn.¡±


    He looks above my head, towards the open window. Rain coming through it patters against us, but the awning keeps most of it away. ¡°The storm¡¯s going to get worse, I think.¡±


    ¡°Every time you say something like that, you make it harder for me to believe you do not bring about these rains.¡±


    He laughs.


    Since Kaki isn¡¯t infected or shows any signs of Impurity in his Soul, people argue a lot over whether or not he is Enlightened or Soulless. Whether he is damned or was born into godhood. It can¡¯t be godhood, though, since the prophecies claim only three Enlighteneds can walk this realm at a time. one god-child representing each sun, Kirill and Gerasim, and one god-child representing the eight moons. And those three are already here. Enlightened Daniya, Enlightened Alranath, and Enlightened Everleigh¨CKaki¡¯s aunt.


    Some say that his existence as a potential Enlightened brings about devastating weather, or fires, or any other such anomaly. It is the Suns telling us he should not walk among us, that he is improbable. Others say that he is a miracle, proof that the plague may not last forever. Some believe that he is a bad omen, that he possesses the power to take away the gifts that the plague grants, like my fast feet.


    I don¡¯t really care either way, but him saying things like this, like he¡¯s a prophet, scares me.


    ¡°It¡¯s not that hard to figure out,¡± he says. ¡°It¡¯s something I¡¯ve noticed over many cycles.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m scared to ask what you mean by that.¡±


    ¡°But you just did.¡±


    ¡°I suppose.¡±


    ¡°Here. Look.¡± He stands up and turns towards the window. A real gentleman would offer to help a lady up, I muse, though I suppose I am not much of a lady. I stand at his side. ¡°Those clouds? They¡¯re dark. Really dark and long, you see? I think the wind changed directions too, but I¡¯m not sure. But it always storms when the clouds get like that.¡±


    ¡°That is Gerasim giving us warning to take shelter, that He is hiding,¡± I say, shaking my head. ¡°Of course the clouds go dark. The Suns are in hiding.¡±


    He shrugs. ¡°Maybe so. Either way, it¡¯ll be raining for a while.¡±


    We sit back down and he takes the book into his lap. I rest my head against the wall, content with just watching him. He says I should try to think of stories myself, but I don¡¯t think I have an imagination. That is another thing that only smart people have, I¡¯ve tried to explain, but he doesn¡¯t believe me.


    He opens the book and hums lightly beneath his breath. I look over to catch a glimpse, to see if this is one of the books with written works or just a blank page. This one is just a blank page. most of the books he reads are blank pages. I know very little about reading, or books, so I figure that this is some higher-level text.


    ¡°Which one is this?¡± I ask.


    He¡¯s allowed to give me summaries of his books, just not read them to me. It is actually quite enjoyable, listening about something that¡¯s not really there.


    He has a total of thirteen books. I remember that because he can¡¯t tell me the titles, so he tells me, ¡°This is book number one¡± or ¡°This is book number twelve.¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s a new book,¡± he says. ¡°It¡¯s an old journal I found.¡±


    ¡°Oh,¡± I say. ¡°Where did you find it?¡±


    He glances at me, a cheeky grin coming over him. ¡°In an old memorial. An unfamiliar one.¡±


    ¡°Kaki!¡± I cry, wanting to swat him on the arm the same way Missus Yarna does to me, except I cannot because Kaki is of Gerasim blood and I¡¯m of Ospry.


    ¡°I know, I know,¡± he says. ¡°It¡¯s not that bad, Nadya, really. And the book is interesting. It¡¯s¨C¡±


    ¡°You¡¯re going to get into so much trouble,¡± I say crossly.


    ¡°Maybe. But who¡¯s going to know? You won¡¯t tell anyone that I¡¯m reading these, right?¡±


    ¡°Maybe I will. You¡¯ll get into so much trouble.¡±


    ¡°You¡¯ve said that twice and we both know it¡¯s not true.¡±


    ¡°Then you¡¯ll get whoever is selling them to you in trouble.¡±


    His eyes glint. ¡°Do you not want to know what it¡¯s about?¡±


    Taken from Royal Road, this narrative should be reported if found on Amazon.


    ¡°I suppose.¡±


    ¡°I suppose,¡± he mocks. ¡°So nonchalant, Nadya. Like you aren¡¯t utterly curious.¡±


    ¡°Just for that, I don¡¯t want to know.¡±


    ¡°Alright then.¡±


    He¡¯s stubborn, but I am stubborner, and he¡¯s always much too excitable when he comes across any sort of new, illegally sourced information to not share it with me. I just have to wait out the upcoming silence.


    Eventually, I close my eyes, wondering if I can get away with a nap before Missus Yarna finds out I am hiding out with a boy well above my class.


    ¡°It¡¯s about the Javimoe desert,¡± Kaki says eventually.


    I do not open my eyes, but I smile. ¡°Yeah?¡±


    ¡°Yeah. I can¡¯t really quite understand it yet, but whoever wrote this says that the people in Javimoe used to be rich nomads. Or I think that is what it says. The meaning isn¡¯t quite clear to me yet.¡±


    ¡°What¡¯s a nomad?¡±


    ¡°I think they are traders? Or something? I am not sure. I¡¯ll have to ask Enlightened Alranath.¡±


    ¡°Nomad sounds like the name of an old man,¡± I say.


    Kaki chuckles. ¡°Yes. A little bit.¡±


    ¡°A man with a really big stomach and whose got a beard and whose skin is gray and who has very big eyes,¡± I say. ¡°Like Father Dash.¡±


    Kaki bursts into laughter entirely. ¡°Or Mister Gernum.¡±


    ¡°Or!¡± I pause for dramatic effect. ¡°Mister Vu.¡±


    ¡°Nadya!¡± Kaki cries, but he doubles over, unable to contain himself.


    ¡°Poor Mister Vu,¡± I muse. ¡°Everyone says he used to be so handsome. I just really can¡¯t imagine it.¡±


    ¡°He¡¯s certainly a character,¡± Kaki agrees. ¡°Even his irises have eyelashes.¡±


    And we leave that at that.


    Kaki shuts the book on his lap. ¡°I don¡¯t think these nomads looked anything like Mister Vu or Mister Gernum. They were supposed to be great travelers. Apparently, back then, Javimoe was expansive and thriving, a city much more revered than Mecraentos.¡±


    ¡°That must have been a long time ago.¡± I glance at the tattered, disintegrating front cover. ¡°The book looks really old, like it¡¯s about to come apart.¡±


    ¡°It probably is.¡±


    A sudden whipping sound comes from outside, the intense road of an angry Sun. A flash of white illuminates the small room, then another, then one more. I wince at each, pressing my hands to my ears. The room grows much, much colder. I yearn for a fire.


    ¡°See? Told you,¡± Kaki says with a smug smile.


    ¡°Don¡¯t be proud of a fake prophecy,¡± I say. ¡°Wipe that smile off.¡±


    He sticks his tongue out at me. ¡°You are such a stickler sometimes.¡±


    ¡°Nuh-uh.¡±


    ¡°Uh-huh.¡±


    ¡°I should probably go back,¡± I say. ¡°Missus Yarna will look for me to make sure I didn¡¯t ruin her pretty skirt, and I have a lot of washing up to do.¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s raining too hard for you to walk around the courtyard. Missus Yarna won¡¯t miss you that badly.¡±


    ¡°Oh, she will.¡±


    Something in my expression must have soured, for Kaki says, ¡°Yes, she loves you. She has given me many talks about how I need to be a proper gentleman and master and leave you alone, especially before we both grow into adolescence.¡±


    It¡¯s ironic, that lowly, Impure Missus Yarna is willing to talk to a Pure, noble boy about being proper.


    ¡°I don¡¯t get how adolescence will change anything,¡± I say, standing up. ¡°We¡¯ll still be us, just a little older.¡±


    ¡°I don¡¯t get it either.¡± He stretches, tousles his hair, and grins at me. ¡°Either way, I¡¯ve done a horrible job at leaving you alone.¡±


    ¡°That¡¯s because I¡¯m the only one in the whole Fortress that can sit through your long, nonsensical talks about grass patterns and Javimoe nomads.¡±


    ¡°I could certainly go on much longer about the nomads, if you¡¯d like. I¡¯ve barely touched the surface, and I¡¯m sure I¡¯ll only learn more. I¡¯ve hardly gotten through this book.¡±


    Kaki reads his thirteen books over and over until he has them completely memorized, blank page to blank page. It must be why he has such a thick head. Only thick heads are strong enough to carry all that and never forget.


    ¡°Spare me.¡± But I stay put.


    ***


    Mecraentos storms go just as fast as they come. When Kirill and Gerasim have decided to reveal themselves once more and the rain¡¯s calmed to a happy drizzle, Kaki and I make our way down the tower and back into the civilized world.


    ¡°Missus Yarna will be mad,¡± I lament for the third time, ducking as Kaki tries to mess with my bun. ¡°Stop that! You are such a boy!¡±


    Kaki laughs and reaches out an arm again. I flinch and he pulls away. ¡°I can tell Yarna you were keeping me calm during the storm as wretched company.¡±


    ¡°Wretched?¡± I say as we enter the courtyard, the Suns blazing down on us. ¡°I don¡¯t suppose she¡¯ll like that answer. She¡¯ll make it weird.¡±


    ¡°I suppose that¡¯s her own fault then.¡±


    The courtyard is always hustle and bustle. I hate having to navigate it when I am carrying clothes-baskets or paints or freshly braided laurels for the noble children, but Kaki says this is nothing compared to the overcrowded nature of the rest of Mecraentos City.


    With the Fortress being isolated as it is, with its wall that tower legs and legs into the air, it¡¯s sometimes hard to remember that there is a whole world beyond it. I mean, we have vendors of our own, craftsmen, artists, jesters and other entertainment right here. Lots of servants and maids and advisors and janitors to keep the Fortress running while noble families work with the Court and the Industries to keep our world Pure and our politics in check.


    Kaki started sneaking out into Mecraentos City about a peaking ago, purchasing books illegally, ones that were not approved by the Industries.


    I feel a sudden tug on the back of my scalp as my hair uncoils. I whirl around at the laughing Kaki and say, ¡°You are so annoying sometimes!¡±


    ¡°I can redo it for you if you¡¯d like.¡±


    ¡°I don¡¯t want your hands on my head.¡±


    ¡°Yes, well¨Cwait, Nadya!¡±


    I start running at full-speed, letting the plague simmer deeper into my bones, my feet moving at a pace which Kaki will simply never be able to match.


    The plague kills us all, eventually, after we go insane and rabid, but the Suns provided us all a gifted curated to each person as a final mercy before our peoples were damned. When the plague gets you, you can turn physically. Those people grow an unnatural amount of hair, with beasty eyes and sharp teeth and black tongues. Then they start to yell in booming voices and they can break your neck with their bare hands. Finally succumbing to the plague is supposedly the worst pain a man can experience.


    So I suppose using your gift would be the most euphoric. I have tried to explain this feeling before to Kaki, as he is always curious. I can¡¯t. The closest it would be is the adrenaline rush Kaki and I felt when we accidentally ate a few noreburry leaves.


    I dodge servant women that live in my wing. I dodge a few gruffy old men and a man pushing carts of fermenting flesh. I leap over the spiky gray roots that are growing into our dirt paths, spreading out like veins¨Cnot even our soils could escape the plague. If I were to step on one, it would burn through my Soul completely, but I am agile enough to avoid it.


    Sometimes I¡¯ll watch the noble children during their physical training sessions after I have set up their routes and course obstacles. I am always tempted to run them myself. This is close enough.


    I glance over my shoulder and see Kaki lagging legs away. I laugh. He doesn¡¯t give up, though. He will keep running and running until I stop or my knees give out.


    When I reach the end of the courtyard, my knees are screaming in pain, so I stop, ignoring the glares around me. I sit on top of a resting sharpener¡¯s block. After a few minutes of waiting, I frown and stop atop it.


    Oh no.


    Kaki stands in the middle of a half-circle slowly enclosing in on him. Most are women, servant women and Mothers of the Temples, but some are probably clerks or Industry workers. All of them have decaying, wrinkled skin coupled with black growths or perpetually bleeding eyes or misshapen limbs. Kaki¡¯s brows are drawn and he wears a smile, but it¡¯s clear in his eyes he is praying for the posse to go away. I make my way towards him, shoving through the bystanders.


    ¡°¨Cplease join us in prayer, Lightened Bakiyoria!¡± says one woman with sunken eyes. ¡°Your Purity will let us be seen favorably by the Suns. Please!¡±


    ¡°Yes, just this once,¡± another woman says.


    ¡°Oh, how you¡¯ve grown! Look at the radiance of his skin, so smooth, filled with so much life!¡±


    One points to the sky. ¡°The rains have been sent as a message, a reminder of our Suns¡¯ power. Please, join us for prayer. We want to keep our clear skies.¡±


    I let out a breath. I am religious, far more than Kaki, but these women go against the whole point of Purification. We are to work towards Enlightenment with good morals, hard work, and intent. Not by riding the already-Pure and non-fractured.


    I tap Kaki on the shoulder. he and his women turn towards me. I am suddenly aware of how small I am, always being a little shorter than the rest of the kids my age.


    ¡°Lightened Bakiyoria,¡± I say. ¡°I would humbly like to remind you that we have your suit fitting scheduled in an hour. Before that, you must have a bath as you are rancid, your face must be cleaned up, and¨Cthat hair! Something simply must be done, please. You look dreadful. You cannot present yourself to the Court looking like a beat up old hag that¨C¡±


    ¡°Right, right, I understand,¡± he interrupts. He glances at the women sheepishly. ¡°I really must attend to this. Sorry, Missuses and Misters.¡±


    There comes a bunch of protests and a few nods of understanding. I straighten my back and walk with as much authority as I can muster as Kaki follows behind.


    When we¡¯re a good enough distance away, Kaki says, ¡°Thank you.¡±


    ¡°Don¡¯t thank me yet, Lightened,¡± I say. ¡°They¡¯re only the first group.¡±


    ¡°I know.¡± Kaki sighs. ¡°I am going to have to leave you soon for tutoring.¡±


    ¡°Better be there early before anyone else tries to speak to you.¡±


    ¡°Yeah. I suppose. I¡¯ll walk you to the Ospry Wing first.¡± He frowns. ¡°Do I really smell that bad?¡±


    Most of the servants reside in this wing. As always, the younger servants send odd looks our way. They work for their own noble families, but most do not get as close with their masters and mistresses as I have with Kaki¨CI am also lucky because most do not have their master being a direct descendant of a real Enlightened.


    The young ones have stopped questioning our going-abouts-together, but many still see us as improper. For Kaki to be even near the Osrpy Wing is seen as horrendously below his station and completely unfit. I should be escorting him. It would do well to serve my Soul, to not fracture it even more by my pride being stoked by prancing about with such a boy.


    My Soul is slightly less fractured than other Ospry, but the sheer imbalance between a ten percent fracture and Kaki¡¯s zero is unforgivable. I know I would be looking down if any of my fellow servants were hanging out with Pure-Souled nobles in the casual manner I find myself.


    My cheeks burn a little as we enter the wing.


    ¡°Maybe you should leave,¡± I say. ¡°You¡¯ll be late for your lesson.¡±


    Kaki shrugs. ¡°I learn far less in those lessons than I do from self-study.¡±


    That¡¯s because you read those illegal books, I muse but say nothing.


    The Ospry Wing is well-decorated, with stone walls painted with burnt yellow and red, depicting the rising and setting of the fifth moon which our class was named after. The Doors were once painted glorious, vibrant colors but are now faded and, since we don¡¯t have much production in natural paints and oils anymore, they cannot be redone despite the Industry of Aesthetics promising to do so for the last ten cycles. There are over five-hundred rooms littered across twenty-five stories in this Wing. Not all were salvageable after the War, but they do their job. Kaki likes to stop and observe the murals for hours at a time.


    He does so now.


    ¡°Come on, Kaki,¡± I say.


    ¡°I am going to master the art of painting one day, when my mind is a little more free,¡± he says, not turning towards me. ¡°I am going to master the art of many things.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m sure you will.¡± And I mean it. He¡¯s stubborn and annoying but he¡¯s the smartest boy I¡¯ve ever met.


    ¡°Excuse me?¡± a soft voices comes from behind.


    Standing behind us is a woman I¡¯ve seen time and time again. She has unusual hair that¡¯s light and golden, and pale freckled skin¨Ca complete contrast to most in Mecraentos. Dark black spots run up and down her arms and legs, revealed beneath the skin-dress she wears. They seem like flowers blossoming on her skin. Her eyes are large and, where they are typically white, the plague has turned them yellow, almost matching to her hair.


    Right now, those eyes are thick and puffy, and there are white streaks drawn onto those black-spotted cheeks.


    I search for her name but I cannot find it.


    One thing about Kaki is that he never forgets a face. ¡°Miss Gennadi? Are you alright?¡±


    Gennadi. That¡¯s right. A personal servant for Enlightened Everleigh.


    ¡°Enlightened Everleigh wishes to see you in lieu of your lesson, Lightened,¡± she says. ¡°I was sent to fetch you.¡±


    ¡°Oh. Thank you.¡± She nods curtly. ¡°You look like you¡¯ve been crying.¡±


    I want to elbow him. Pressing is not very gentlemanly.


    But Miss Gennadi just smiles, a crooked one. ¡°Yes, I have been. But it¡¯s alright. I¡¯ll feel much better once you¡¯ve been attended to, Lightened.¡±


    ¡°Is it alright if Nadya accompanies me?¡±


    Miss Gennadi glances at me. ¡°I¡¯m¡­ not sure if Enlightened Everleigh wants this to be a private or public conversation.¡±


    ¡°Well, might as well bring her along then.¡±


    ¡°I am not sure if that¡¯s a good idea, Lightened.¡±


    ¡°I don¡¯t think that¡¯s a good idea either, Lightened,¡± I say. Missus Yarna will get on both of us again and I¡¯ll be missing more work and it¡¯s not proper of me to be playing around instead of working.


    Kaki smirks a little at my use of his formal title, but it dissipates a second later. ¡°I¡¯d rather you come, but you don¡¯t have to. Aunt Everleigh can talk to Missus Yarna for you.¡±


    ¡°We must get moving,¡± Miss Gennadi says. ¡°Nadya may come. She¡¯s at your beckon and call, not Yarna¡¯s. I¡¯ll talk to the crone, if need be.¡±


    ¡°The crone?¡± I repeat, surprised. Kaki laughs, then tries to stifle it.


    A hand quickly comes over Miss Gennadi¡¯s mouth. She uses the back of it to wipe her slightly-wet face. ¡°I¡¯m sorry. Truly sorry, my mind has been so foggy. Please, excuse anything that comes out of my mouth.¡±


    ¡°No,¡± Kaki says. ¡°You¡¯re exactly right.¡±


    ¡°Kaki!¡± I hiss.


    ¡°Nadya!¡± Suddenly, he starts to speed-walk ahead. ¡°You¡¯d better start walking faster if you want to keep up.¡±


    ¡°Suns,¡± I mutter under my breath.


    Miss Gennadi walks alongside us in an amused silence.

 Ash and Stone III - Asaio

    ASAIO


    I lean against Ellie-Darlin as she tells Michie, pretty loudly, ¡°We can either go back to Punnet or we can go to the apothecary.¡±


    Michie just nods, rubbin his blackened feathers that peel from his boney arms. They¡¯re startin to grow some sort of mold or fungi. Because of the mask on my face, I can¡¯t exactly make out his expression fully, but he seems so damn tired.


    ¡°Are you feeling okay?¡± Flynn asks her. ¡°You¡¯re the one that needs to go to Sans the most.¡±


    ¡°I am okay. Asaio?¡±


    ¡°Don¡¯t wanna bother Sans yet,¡± I tell her.


    Seht wheels on Asher. ¡°I wanna know who this is.¡±


    ¡°My name is Asher,¡± says Asher.


    ¡°Intro¡­ductions should wait tills after we get movin,¡± Michie suggests slowly, noddin at Ellie-Darlin and I. We must look worse than I feel.


    Seht narrows his eyes. ¡°I don¡¯t like you,¡± he says to Asher, very decisively.


    Asher just shrugs. His gaze lingers on me. ¡°You¡¯re different,¡± he says. ¡°Are you the reason the trees were moving?¡±


    I remain silent.


    ¡°I already saw your face, earlier, so you do not have to hide it.¡±


    When? Seht makes a face. It takes a bit of effort to make sure no one sees me in action cause, even if talkin to leaves ain¡¯t the most unusual ¡®gift¡¯ it¡¯s enough to warrant my death. The lickers are always lookin for unusual people to send to the Slaughter Houses. Someone like Flynn could be considered a threat, since he can speak to live snakes and ain¡¯t just equipped with the usual extra strength or eyesight or somethin.


    ¡°He is not a danger to you, Asaio,¡± Michie assures us.


    I pull off my hood. No point in keepin it on if he¡¯s already seen my face.


    We move quickly so that we avoid any incomin Lime Men that realize their carriage ain¡¯t comin on time. We stick to the wet alleyways, huggin the shadows. The bug lickers will be comin soon enough and we definitely don¡¯t wanna be here when that happens.


    Mecraentos City hardly reacts to the violence that just took place¨Ceveryone¡¯s seen worse than a could-be murder and a crashed carriage. Most of the civilians just stay away from the windows and keep their eyes shut so that they ain¡¯t lyin when the lickers come through and ask them what happened. The coach is gonna cause the most uproar cause it was expensive and desperate civilians are gonna try to rob it of its engine or wheels. If those folk get caught by the lickers or Lime Men, they¡¯re done for. If not, they¡¯re either a step closer to payin off debt or a step further from starvation.


    None of us say it aloud, but we all know we¡¯re goin back to Punnet Street over the apothecary. It¡¯ll take us longer to get proper medical care, but we ain¡¯t gonna trust a stranger to know where our stashes are.


    Asher lets us take the lead, not complainin, not speakin at all, while Michie hobbles along awkwardly, havin to make a few stops to catch his breath. We can¡¯t get mad at him since it¡¯s mostly due to the plague, but it¡¯s hard not to be annoyed when the one slowin us down is not the one with an arrow stickin out of her back.


    We cross a couple bustlin streets. Like its people, Mecraentos City never sleeps. People are comin home from late shifts or startin their late shifts. Street urchins that ain¡¯t so lucky as us beg on the streets or in front of the Slaughter Houses. And, everywhere, there is the lingerin smell of death.


    A few recently deceased plague victims on the corners of the streets, sat next to weak bodies that will become the recently deceased within the next week. Lines are formed in front of the Slaughter Houses¨Cthey take in dead bodies, clean em of the plague and turn em into edible food. We¡¯re alloted our monthly amounts of meat based on our class and Purity. They¡¯re dingy, horrible places with lines that never move and the worst smellin meats. A lot of people are figurin that relyin on a gang gives you better chances than the Fair and Equal food compensations the nobles and the Industries provide us.


    ¡°I¡¯m assuming that the Lime Men wanted you because you¡¯re a seeder?¡± Seht asks when Michie asks for a third break, stoppin us beside a rancid smellin sewage drain. I¡¯m glad for it, as my vision was startin to black out again.


    Michie nods. ¡°Theys wanted to stake me before the lickers could.¡±


    ¡°They came to your doorstep again?¡± Flynn asks.


    Michie nods again. ¡°The lickers says it ain¡¯t fair that I¡¯ma eatin more than the rest of yous.¡±


    Lookin at his skinny legs, I know that can¡¯t at all be true.


    ¡°So I gotta start givin to the Industry more,¡± he says. ¡°Ain¡¯t worth bein a seeder, at this point. I told the Lime Men that too and they said theys could help me make a profits.¡± He shakes his head. ¡°Not worth it.¡±


    I make eye contact with Seht, frownin. He wipes a bit of blood off his cheek with the back of his hand. This don¡¯t bode well for us. If the authorities are gettin on him for his crop, and he¡¯s got different gangs gunnin for him, he¡¯ll stop growin and that means we won¡¯t get any of his extra crop. Part of the deal with his sister was that we would get forty percent of his harvest. And, as bad as I might feel for this man, when you live in this City, there ain¡¯t a such thing as a free favor. We can¡¯t go back to Vernon and say we did all this just out of the kindness of our hearts.


    Flynn glances nervously at Asher. He¡¯s the youngest-lookin of us all despite bein the tallest, with big eyes and real lanky limbs. His hair¡¯s long and curly and peachy, a shade lighter than his skin, always braided back with twine. He strokes the backs of Nep and Pen, whisperin to them a bit, as if those whispers can ward Asher away.


    As block spots begin to dot my vision again, I decide to make conversation to give my brain somethin active to do, instead of lettin myself slip into unconsciousness.


    ¡°Asher,¡± I say, ¡°it¡¯s impressive, switchin with the coach driver like that. How¡¯d you manage it?¡± Actually, loads of what he did was impressive, I note, glancin at the bow slung over his back.


    His face remains still. ¡°When I found out Mister Michie was kidnapped, I¨C¡±


    ¡°How¡¯d you find out?¡± Seht interrupts.


    ¡°He lives with us,¡± Michie answers.


    I raise a brow. Less and less families are havin kids these days, plus Michie ain¡¯t married.


    ¡°We did not know you had kids,¡± Ellie-Darlin admits.


    ¡°I dunt,¡± Michie says. ¡°Asher started livin with us¡­ two weeks ago? Just appeared and asked for work. I¨C¡± Suddenly, Michie breaks out into violent coughs. Asher walks over to the old young man and slaps him on the back a few times. ¡°¨Cthank you. Is was gonna send him to you Garnets, since I know I¡¯ve ain¡¯t gots much time left but¡­ dunno how well yous would take that.¡±


    Seht turns toward Asher. ¡°Just appeared and asked for work?¡¯


    Asher nods. ¡°It¡¯s a long story.¡±


    Seht turns away. ¡°Okay.¡±


    Asher barely hides his surprise at Seht¡¯s easy dismissal on the matter, but that¡¯s cause he don¡¯t understand what us Garnets are.


    We ain¡¯t really a gang, just a bunch of street scrappers and stragglers that¡¯ve managed to group together to keep ourselves alive, all of us round the ages six through nineteen, since our eldest keep dyin off from the plague or malnutrition or just plain bad luck before twenty. A good number of us all got ¡®long stories¡¯ that brought us to where we are. Outta the four of us here, I¡¯m the only one native to Mecraentos City. The others have lived here for less than two cycles, each with their own ¡®long story.¡¯ We know better than to press.


    ¡°When you found out Michie was kidnapped¡­?¡± I prompt Asher.


    ¡°When I found out Mister Michie was kidnapped,¡± Asher starts again, ¡°I figured it was either your authorities or one of the gangs, and the Lime Men have been brooding around the apartment for the whole time I¡¯ve been living with him. Found out through some factory workers that Mister Michie was last seen in an old apartment a little northbound of the Fyi Streets, so I went there and found nothing, but there were tracks, sign of struggle. I followed them. I guess it could have been anyone, but I figured, from how isolated that back alley was, that the blood on the walls was Mister Michie¡¯s.¡±


    ¡°Impressive,¡± I say again.


    Asher shrugs. ¡°I was raised to track people. I snuck into one of the Lime Men¡¯s hideouts and mimicked one of their men. I don¡¯t know his name¨C¡±


    ¡°So it was you that mimicked Seht¡¯s voice,¡± I say.


    ¡°Yeah.¡±


    ¡°Cool.¡±


    He smiles. ¡°Thanks.¡±


    Ellie-Darlin blinks. ¡°He mimicked Seht?¡±


    ¡°Yeah. Right before he shot you.¡±


    ¡°Oh.¡±


    The one time you hear my voice,¡± Seht says, rollin his eyes.


    ¡°I hear you when you argue with Vernon,¡± Ellie-Darlin says. ¡°I hear you when you argue with Crimson. I hear you when you argue with Mustletop. I hear you when you argue with the lickers. I hear you when you argue with Nep and Pen. I hear you when you argue with yourself in your sleep. I hear you¨C¡±


    Flynn and I burst out laughin while Seht shoves her lightly on the shoulder. ¡°Shut up, Ellie.¡±


    ¡°Sour thumb,¡± I say.


    ¡°Damp match,¡± Flynn says.


    ¡°Foot carpet.¡±


    ¡°Malcontent marplot.¡±


    ¡°What in this sweet world is a malcontent marplot?¡± I demand. ¡°Those ain¡¯t even letters that¡¯s ¡®sposed to fit together!¡±


    Flynn shrugs and blushes, while Seht says, ¡°You¡¯d know if you were smarter.¡±


    ¡°I was not bestowed any sorta high-brown education, actually.¡±


    ¡°High-brow,¡± Flynn says in an overly-pompous accent. Nep, who has gained consciousness at some point between now and when we first started movin, hisses in laughter. She moves to rest her head on her sister¡¯s.


    ¡°We should keep moving so we don¡¯t get caught by the lickers,¡± Seht says.


    We pass beneath green shroom lamps and across damp roads, steppin over bloody gutters and broken drums, while Asher continues his story. ¡°Yeah, well, I mimicked one of their men. Got the information on where they last took Michie, then I met the coach, begging for a morsel. he shooed me away, so I shot him, took his clothes, and took the coach.¡±


    We cross towards the openin of Punnet Street. It¡¯s a deprived, decayin block of dilapidatin wooden buildins with more holes than not, stacked up high on top of each other. Bags and bags of trash and debris are more common on the lawns than playful children or watchful elders. To keep the rain out, thick woven sheets are laid over all the buildins, but they bend beneath the weight of the droplets. The look of the place shocked Flynn and Ellie-Darlin when they first moved here.


    I notice Asher¡¯s extremely cautious. He keeps glancin over both his shoulders after we cross any street, double-checks each face that looks out way. Good. If he wants to be a Garnet, that¡¯s good.


    ¡°I was going to drive the coach into a back-end alley and deposit the other two guys,¡± he says.


    I nod at his back. ¡°That bow of yours is nifty.¡±


    ¡°Yes,¡± Ellie-Darlin agrees. She tenderly touches where she was shot in the back. ¡°When did you learn to shoot?¡±


    ¡°Started when I was very young.¡±


    ¡°How old are you?¡± Seht asks. ¡°You don¡¯t seem that plague-ridden.¡±


    ¡°I feel fifteen, or maybe older,¡± he says after a pause. Older than the rest of us then, by a cycle or two.


    ¡°Don¡¯t we all?¡± Seht snorts, rubbin Mono Man¡¯s necklace of eyes.


    Seht is right. Asher has no veins on his pale, freckled skin. Seht¡¯s plague is mostly visible on his arms, when he is not wearing his cloak. There are patches of black skin beneath it that bubble a bit, as though it is boiling. Ellie-Darlin¡¯s eyes and ears are infected, which is why she needs lenses and cannot hear very well. And Flynn frequently has to tame his mood¨Csince I ain¡¯t infected I don¡¯t know how the plague affects his brain like that, but he says it does.


    We reach Michie¡¯s apartment complex. It¡¯s two stories, squished, as though two small homes were dropped on top of each other and forced to stand on their own. Each should only fit a family of four, but they¡¯re housin up to twenty per room in there.


    This text was taken from Royal Road. Help the author by reading the original version there.


    Asher glances at us. ¡°Why would we come here if your medical care were at the apothecary?¡±


    Ellie-Darlin hoists me tighter as we make our way towards the horrible lookin ladder contraption that hugs the side of the apartment, ten legs up. If I¡¯d had to climb it, I wouldn¡¯t have made it, makin me even more reliant on Ellie¡¯s gift of strong legs and jumpin capabilities. The black spots are already returnin to my vision once again.


    ¡°What do you mean? What medical care?¡± Seht asks as Michie takes to the ladder first.


    ¡°Don¡¯t want me knowing where your doctor is located. That¡¯s who Sans is, yes?¡±


    Sharp.


    ¡°I might be new, but I doubt there are many apothecaries in this City,¡± Asher says. ¡°I will not hurt your doctor.¡±


    ¡°Really, Ellie?¡± Seht says irritably.


    ¡°Don¡¯t blame me!¡± Ellie-Darlin cries.


    ¡°You brought it up!¡±


    Asher glances at me. ¡°He looks really sick, and the rest of you aren¡¯t much better.¡±


    ¡°We¡¯ll be fine,¡± Seht says.


    ¡°At least let me help bandage her up, as an apology for shooting her in the back, so it doesn¡¯t get infected.¡±


    ¡°Thank you,¡± Ellie-Darlin says. Asher gestures for her to climb up the ladder before him.


    ¡°What a gentleman,¡± I note.


    Ellie-Darlin, with me in clutch, leaps ten legs into the air and lands shakily on the front steps of the front enterance of Michie¡¯s apartment. Second floor. Michie reaches out a thin hand to keep her from tumblin backwards, arms flailin a little bit. He pulls us inside. The room reeks of a spicy, foreign scent that I¡¯ve never been cursed with before. I immediately burst out coughin.


    Michie¡¯s got eight roommates, but all them except his sister are out for work. Despite the place bein empty, if the six of us Garnets (and Michie)sat with our legs crossed, we¡¯d be nearly knee to knee. It¡¯s dark and wet, with nothin for decor but two sleepin carpets and a wooden table that comes up to my knees.


    I move away from Ellie to prevent from coughin into her hair.


    ¡°Sorry, sorry,¡± I say to the wide-eyed woman in the ocrner of the room.


    Thin and sickly like her brother, Madge is similarly covered in feathers. She¡¯s a little older than Michie, so she¡¯s already hunched, but her hair ain¡¯t fallin out like his. It¡¯s healthy and full of volume and a sad contrast between the rest of her. Her mouth is even more closed up than his, the skin tied together with black growths. Looks damn painful.


    She nods at me, gesturin towards a metal pot in the back. I have no idea what that means so I turn back towards the door for fresh air before the smells and exhaustion can do a double number on me.


    Asher steps inside at that moment, followed by Flynn. He immediately moves to Ellie-Darlin¡¯s side.


    ¡°You haven¡¯t asked our names yet,¡± Flynn notes.


    ¡°I don¡¯t need them,¡± Asher says.


    ¡°Oh.¡±


    ¡°You told me you¡¯re the Garnets.¡±


    ¡°We ain¡¯t all got the same name, root-brain,¡± I huff, before realizin that Asher might not take too kindly to friendly jests.


    He takes it well, though. ¡°That¡¯s not what I meant,¡± he says through a smile. ¡°Boot. Brain.¡±


    ¡°And that ain¡¯t how teasin works.¡±


    Asher¡¯s hands hover awkwardly over Ellie-Darlin. ¡°Is it alright if I bandage you up, missus. I have to lift up your shirt.¡±


    ¡°Missus?¡± she says with a wrinkled nose. ¡°Do not call me that.¡±


    ¡°Is it alright?¡±


    ¡°Yeah. My back hurts a lot,¡± she admits. She moves over to sit in front of him, while she lifts the lower part of her shirt so he can pull the arrowhead out. I watch as he uses a different tip to cut parts of his cloak into strips.


    Seht walks over to Madge, who¡¯s whisperin with her brother. ¡°The crop,¡± he says.


    Madge steps away and pulls back a floorboard. Inside is a sack of fresh crop.


    I don¡¯t know the names of any of the vegetables Michie¡¯s planted with his magic soil. There¡¯s a total of thirty, I think. Enough to feed all the Garnets at once without havin to split, without havin to find steal some poor body from the Slaughter Houses. My eyes follow the sack hungrily. As sweet as meat is, when we first tried a sweet potato, it was more heavenly than any liver I¡¯d known. It soothed the stomach, didn¡¯t have us reelin. Michie explained that, once upon a time, before the plague hit and before we ate human flesh, these things used to be a bunch more common, and we lived longer. But they don¡¯t grow well in our dyin soil. There¡¯s a load of dry patches and the rain don¡¯t nurture the same as it used to, so they can¡¯t grow as well. But Michie managed to work his magic. I don¡¯t know where he got all that wisdom.


    Michie cries, ¡°Yous can¡¯t give them the rest!¡±


    ¡°Theys just saved you,¡± Madge snaps. ¡°Get off your high hind!¡±


    ¡°The lickers will¨C¡±


    ¡°We dealt with the lickers before,¡± Madge says. ¡°Don¡¯t¨Cstop it, this was the deal, Mich!¡± She struggles against her brother¡¯s weak grip as he tries to hold her back.


    Before Seht can, Flynn calmly steps forward and takes the sack out of Madge¡¯s hands. ¡°Sorry, Michie. A deal is a deal.¡±


    ¡°What else dids you demand?¡± Michie demands.


    ¡°This, a promise that we continue to get a fourth of your crop next season, and your loyalty,¡± Seht says.


    ¡°My loyalty?¡±


    ¡°Yes,¡± Seht says. ¡°We saved you. We want you to be the first establishment under the Garnets¡¯ name.¡±


    ¡°The¨C¡± Michie begins to physically stutter so hard he stops speakin and unstutters himself.


    Asher¡¯s, who¡¯s made considerable progress with Ellie-Darlin, her stomach bandaged up tight, glances up, concerned. ¡°Mister?¡±


    ¡°Es¡­ estab¨C¡± Michie¡¯s sewn-up mouth struggles to pronounce the word. When he does, it sounds as lopsided as his face looks. ¡°Establishment? What establishment? You want me to be one of y¡¯alls Coin Men? This no business, no ones was supposed to knows about my crop! The lickers ares already gettin on me fors my crop, I can¡¯t go havin yous kids under my name, my belt. No.¡±


    ¡°We can protect you,¡± Seht says. ¡°We just went and along and done proved that, didn¡¯t we? We¨C¡±


    ¡°I¡¯ms a-goin to die in less than two cycles, Seht,¡± Michie says. ¡°No, there ain¡¯t nothin yalls want here. No-how.¡±


    I suddenly learn what the source of the strong, irritatin smell is. Madge steps forward with a small, hand-carved cup full of whatever liquid was in the pot in the corner of the room. The smell reeks from it.


    ¡°Tea,¡± she says softly. ¡°Ooze your pains. An old family tradition lost.¡±


    ¡°Teas are made from marrow,¡± Ellie-Darlin says. She was given a similar cup. ¡°What is this?¡±


    ¡°Cinnamon tea.¡± She tries to smile, but her mouth ain¡¯t capable of doin it all the way. ¡°Please, try.¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s good,¡± Asher says. ¡°Promise.¡±


    I take a sip and nearly melt into ecstasy. I feel my enery reserves seepin.


    Seht rejects his cinnamon tea. ¡°Michie¨C¡±


    ¡°No, you kids outta run away, far, far from this City,¡± Michie says. ¡°Don¡¯ts go playin games with gangs and affiliations; it ain¡¯t worth it. Yous only live for so long, for who? Yous gotta find ¡®for you.¡¯ That¡¯s what yous gotta do! Don¡¯t go playin this game. The board y¡¯all are lookin at ain¡¯t even the one yous playin.¡±


    Mono Man, Christy, the Gem Lady, Sans from the Apothecary¨Call these adults that¡¯ve walked in and out of our lives, either taken by the plague or by circumstance, have said somethin similar.


    They don¡¯t realize most of us Garnets came into the City. It can be worse beyond the Mecraentos borders. Even if people live to thirty out there. Even if it¡¯s more common for families to be raised out there. Even if it¡¯s easier to get an education out there, somewhere like the Ten Islands, beyond all management from the noble¡¯s authorities.


    Mecraentos is a tight-knit city full of tight-knit people. Once we Garnets are weaved together, there¡¯s no chance we¡¯re goin to be undone.


    Michie can see it in all of our faces.


    He sighs heavily. ¡°I¡¯m goin to die. The plague¨C¡±


    ¡°We all are, eventually,¡± Ellie-Darlin says softly. ¡°It gives you a lot less to lose, yeah?¡±


    Michie stares at her for a few seconds before turnin away. His black feathers make his silhouette seem bigger than it is, as though the real him is a ghost of himself. ¡°No. It gives yous less to hope for.¡±


    ¡°I think that¡¯s stupid,¡± Seht says.


    ¡°Nah. It¡¯s true.¡±


    ¡°That¡¯s stupid too,¡± Seht says adamantly. ¡°But okay. Go on and keep thinking that way. We¡¯re just asking for food and loyalty¨Cyour assurance that, if we ever need extra coin, you¡¯ll be there for profit in exchange for our own protecting you. I think that¡¯s fair.¡±


    Michie sighs. ¡°Fine. I agree. This puts yous in danger more than helps.¡±


    ¡°That¡¯s okay,¡± Seht says. ¡°Here¡¯s what this alliance means: we protect you from the Lime Men or the lickers. You''re giving us some of your crop. You¡¯re showing us how to grow our own. The authorities don¡¯t know about any of this. We feed ourselves, we teach you how to defend yourself. Easy.¡±


    ¡°And cinnamon tea,¡± I say. ¡°You show us how to make it.¡± Madge smiles.


    ¡°This won¡¯t make the Lime Men more¡­ aggressive?¡± Asher asks. He¡¯s finished bandaging up Ellie-Darlin. It¡¯s clear from the color returnin to her face that he did a good job. I¡¯m close enough in this tight room to reach out and poke her stomach.


    ¡°Hopefully it doesn¡¯t make us look like easy targets,¡± Seht says. ¡°Easy meals. That we¡¯re better than any other street urchins.¡±


    I can see the disapproval, the disbelief, in Michie¡¯s eyes.


    Everyone kills street urchins. We¡¯re less rotted, less plague-ridden, and therefore of better quality once we¡¯re dead. Orphans like us, who¡¯ll miss us? There¡¯s always stories of kid-gangs goin missin, like the Rats or the Snarls. Us Garnets are tryin to make a name of ourselves before we all end up missin like that.


    ¡°A better plan would be to go and hide,¡± Michie says.


    ¡°Maybe, maybe not,¡± Seht says. ¡°We live off maybes.¡±


    ¡°Wait,¡± Flynn says, glancin at the basket. ¡°This is all of your crop?¡± When Michie and Madge nod, he takes two of the largest vegetables and sets it on their laps. ¡°We¡¯ve still got enough for us.¡±


    ¡°Thank you,¡± Madge says.


    ¡°That¡¯s that, then,¡± Seht says. ¡°Our watch-outs will keep a special eye on you two.¡±


    ¡°Watch-outs?¡± Michie asks.


    ¡°We always got someone watchin Punnet Street,¡± I say.


    ¡°You do? Why?¡±


    ¡°Because,¡± I say, ¡°we know that, one day, us Garnets are gonna turn this street into a rich district, I can promise you. And you¡¯ll be alive to see it.¡±


    Michie¡¯s eyes say it¡¯s a fool¡¯s dream. It¡¯ll happen. Maybe it won¡¯t be us that turns this place on its head. We might be dead by then. I might be shot in the stomach or pushed off a roof or starved to death or somethin. The others might be taken by the plague. But it¡¯ll happen.


    As we prepare to leave, I walk two steps towards Michie and Madge and wrap them both individually in a tight embrace. They reel back in surprise.


    ¡°Sorry,¡± Seht says. ¡°He¡¯s touchy.¡±


    ¡°Lovin,¡± I correct.


    ¡°Invasive.¡±


    I squeeze them both tighter, then pull away. I turn to Asher and give him a mock-solute. ¡°I expect we¡¯ll be seein you again soon.¡±


    He nods. ¡°We are well-met.¡±


    We turn to head out, sack of vegetables and a newly acquired alliance in hand.


    ***


    On nights like these, we would¡¯ve run across the roof like heathens, free and uncarin, as the rain grows harder and nourishes us, lappin our dehydrated mouths and fillin our water caskets. But we¡¯re too tired for that, so we painstakingly blend into the streets that grow steadily more and more crowded as the City awakens.


    ¡°We could use him,¡± I decide as I leap over a giant hole in the ground, filled with fluffy black mold. The others follow suit.


    ¡°Asher?¡± Ellie-Darlin says.


    I feel better again after the rest, but I hold her hand as we walk, just for holdin¡¯s sake.


    ¡°Yeah. He¡¯s smart, he¡¯s got the mimickin thing, he can use a weapon, he¡¯s a survivor. We should ask him to come back with us.¡±


    ¡°Cunning,¡± Flynn says.


    ¡°What in this sweet world is cunning?¡± I say.


    ¡°Basically what you said. Smart.¡±


    ¡°Then why¡¯d you have to say it? That ain¡¯t very cunnin.¡±


    Flynn¡¯s snakes have wrapped themselves comfortably around his neck, nestled beneath his long hair. ¡°I¡¯ve heard that accent before but I don¡¯t remember where.¡±


    ¡°Your butt-crack,¡± I suggest.


    His snakes hiss at me. I scratch both of them behind the head and they calm down.


    ¡°Suck up,¡± Flynn says.


    I look up overheard. There is a drapin awnin above us, the rain rollin down in steady streams with its funneled mouth. I know that, somewhere on that rooftop, Ana and Lahla are keepin watch, lookin for trouble. One will be lookin over Punnet Street like we promised Michie while the other will be lookin round Carnum and Catum for a few other friends of ours. They¡¯ll probably mug a few tourists, simple theft, while they¡¯re at it to keep busy.


    I wave a hand, knowin that Ana will have seen it. We continue forth.


    ¡°Do you think he would want to join us?¡± Ellie-Darlin asks.


    ¡°Michie was already thinkin of sendin him to us,¡± I say as we dodge a coach that¡¯s barrelin so fast it would run us flat as a leaf. ¡°So maybe.¡±


    ¡°Seht? What do you think?¡± Flynn says.


    ¡°Yes,¡± Seht says simply.


    ¡°Yes to tellin the others about him and bringin him in?¡±


    ¡°Nah. I¡¯m saying yes to cutting off his head and offering it as a sacrifice to Vernon.¡± We all laugh.


    Sans¡¯ Apothecary is within the busy Blackrook block, full of a bunch of ¡°miscellaneous¡± businesses, but hard to find. It¡¯s not exactly a business but a side hustle that does free physical therapies in exchange for ¡®highly appreciated¡¯ coin donations, so debts can be paid. They don¡¯t make much, no more than two or three coin a day in donations from tourists¨Cany more than that and they¡¯ll be ¡®looked at¡¯ by the lickers and Industry¨Cbut it helps.


    It¡¯s owned by Isaela and her mother, Sans.


    Isaela ain¡¯t a Garnet. The Garnets are for the lost souls, the hurt souls, and she¡¯s got her mother¡¯s support. She ain¡¯t interested in bein part of our shenanigans either, despite bein in more rumbles and quicks than either Seht or Ellie-Darlin. She and I actually grew up together, meetin when we were real young after I accidentally kicked dirt into her face, back when I was still in one of those horrible orphan homes a few streets down, before our Mother died of the plague and we had no one left to take care of us. Isaela was actually the person who first let me know that the tree-whisperin thing ain¡¯t normal, the first person to help me listen to control it.


    The place ain¡¯t decorated at all. It¡¯s about as small as Michie¡¯s apartment, with two stone slabs for rest beds and a counter with a tin for donations. The floor¡¯s kept with shaved leaves so that it¡¯s soft and comfortable, while the walls are adorned with weaved branch blankets. I helped with both those as a thank you to Sans for takin care of us at our most desperate.


    Isaela sits at the counter, her mother sleepin on one of the slabs, shudderin and twitchin. Unlike Ellie-Darlin, who¡¯s small and girlish, Isaela is tall and lean, a result of her livin in this City and fightin for both herself and her mother. She¡¯d be muscular if she were fed more. It¡¯s been a bit since we¡¯ve checked up on her, and she looks even less healthy. Her eyes don¡¯t work right, so she has to wear lenses like Ellie-Darlin that her mother took off a client once.


    She perks up when she sees us. It immediately turns into concern.


    ¡°Y¡¯all are hurt,¡± she whispers.


    ¡°Had to save Michie,¡± I say. ¡°The usual, hero things.¡± Seht snorts.


    ¡°Don¡¯t wake up Sans,¡± Seht says. ¡°No one is that badly injured. We just want you to look at Ellie¡¯s back and my face and we¡¯ll be going along our way.¡±


    I walk over to the back wall where one of the blankets hang. There is a hole in the wall. ¡°What¡¯s this from?¡±


    Isaela, who has sat Ellie-Darlin down to inspect how well Asher treated her wound, says, ¡°Oh. Some angry men. I don¡¯t know if they worked for someone or if they just had their heads twisted, but they barreled through yellin for mama to let them in. Kept screamin, ¡®We know you hide the pretty ones, Quinn, you crazy bitch!¡¯¡±


    I scowl and let the world slowly fade away from me. I concentrate on the wood, which I know is alive and connected still to its roots because I can feel the energy seepin from it. The wood¡¯s drawn to me, like it wants to become one with me, sap my reserves and be left in utter submissivness.


    Seht walks up real close. I think he¡¯s goin to hug me, but he just whispers, ¡°I think Asher followed us here. I could hear him.¡±


    ¡°Think he¡¯s watchin me? Should I give him a show?¡±


    Seht clicks twice. Yes.


    I wrap my arms around his shoudlers to pull him in an embrace and then wave my hands, swishin them around the same way I do for Flynn¡¯s snake dances. As dramatically as possible, I listen for the whisperins. When they come to me, a beatin, melodic harmony, I whisper back. Verbally. The rest of the world seems to drain away.


    ¡°Why does Asaio look like that? Should I knock him in over the head?¡± I hear Isaela ask.


    ¡°Shh,¡± Seht urges.


    I wave my hands one way, then another, whippin my head in each direction as I do so. I whisper loudly, copyin the sounds of the branches. They¡¯re laughin at me, a soft ticklish sensation at the front of my brain, where the headaches normally form. I push, puttin all my bodyweight into it. I begin to hiss in a made-up language, ¡°Ash wasa vas po, Ash wasa vas po¡­.¡±


    That¡¯s when I direct the branches to move, all at once. The cross-sections of the wooden wall are undone, with the speed and skill of an extremely talented weaver. I eventually begin doin ¡®fightin poses¡¯ to match each new thread weaved into the wall. ¡°Hyah! Hyah!¡± I say. I raise my fist dramatically into the air as I shoot a branch forward to cover up the center of the hole. This goes on until the entire thing is patched up and done.


    Seht has to pinch Isaela to keep her from cacklin at my thematic demonstration. Ellie-Darlin and Flynn keep their faces straight as can be for the show.


    While I do all this, I pull at the leaves just outside of the apothecary. It¡¯s a stretch, feels like when I try to reach down and touch my feet¨Cwhich I am not flexible enough to do without strain. I use the leaves like a second pair of eyes, wigglin them just enough to be blamed on the wind, but I am searchin.


    One leaf brushes against an unknown skin. A cloak, watchin and listenin from about ten legs away, hidden quite cleverly in a trunk but with perfect view into the apothecary entrance, thanks to the lack of doors in this City.


    I look out, then, towards that direction, smilin. I click three times.


    Three clicks come back. Then laughter. High-pitched, disturbin laughter that echoes through the street. This must be Asher¡¯s idea of his own sort of prank. A response.


    Seht cocks his head. ¡°Maybe I do like him.¡±


    That¡¯s when he passes out. His knees buckle and he topples backwards. Flynn grabs him just in time to keep his head from hittin the ground.


    He must have been hidin his nausea and light-headedness for the entire duration of the trip from Punnet to here. When Seht sets his mind to somethin, it gets done¨Cwhether that be a petty pick-pocket job or stayin awake until he is completely assured the rest of us are all out of danger.

 Ash and Stone IV - Nadya

    NADYA


    The doors to Enlightened Everleigh¡¯s chambers are not as grand as the rumors make them out to be, but they¡¯re still more spectacular than anything you¡¯ll ever find in the Ospry Wing. They were specially engraved to depict Enlightened Everleigh during the climax of the Final Day in the Deadlands, the battle that ended the Sixty-Seven Cycle War. She rises above the ground in the engraved mural, harnessing the power of our first Sun, Kirill.


    The Enlightened are the only people who have ever recovered from the plague, but only at the price of Death. When they died, if their Soul was Pure enough in life, they were reborn with gifts from the Suns, true gifts, not just something like my fast feet, gifts reserved for the most divinely blessed of our world. Enlightened Everleigh was blessed with a special connection to the Suns, able to harness their light and heat. Enlightened Daniya, the water. And Enlightened Alranath, the wind.


    Looking at these doors, with their ornate gold carvings and beautifully done arches, I fantasize what my own door would look like. Enlightened Everleigh¡¯s is all curves and majesty, which is surprising shape symbolism considering how ragged and sharp her personality is often described as. Her face is hardened and her body muscular, masculine from years of fighting the War¨Cnot a trace of a curve or a soft line, and yet she still has the most beautiful eyes any man has seen, or so that¡¯s what Kaki says he hears older boys and noblemen say. He thinks it¡¯s disgusting. But older women are often so alluring to decaying men.


    I would want my own door to be sharp, piercing, eye-catching. I want people to think twice when they pass it. It¡¯ll have teeth as brazen as the Old Predators and it¡¯ll have a stubby handle that struggles to open. Kaki and I have talked about this quite a bit, actually. He does not care for an adorned door, says they¡¯re too frivolous. I want mine to have a battle scene carved into the front, like Enlightened Everleigh¡¯s, except I¡¯ve never been to battle and I doubt I¡¯d be any good if I were forced to. My Soul is too fractured for that.


    Enlightened Everleigh¡¯s door is so finely polished I can see my reflection clearly. We don¡¯t have many mirrors, so it¡¯s rare I get to. A round, dark-skinned face, with curly hair I always keep back in a bun. I¡¯m small, but my arms are skinnier than I want them to be. I could not be like the noble girls with their big sleeves because my shoulders would not allow them to look flattering on me.


    But my worst feature, by far, is the burn mark that covers the entire right half of my face. I glance away before it can bother me too much. It takes away from everything¨Cmy nose, my cheekbones, my eyes.


    I take a second to breathe, my knees already hurting from the walk here. The image of Kaki¡¯s reflection appears beside mine. Walking with Miss Gennadi was particularly awkward, as Kaki kept asking questions she clearly did not want to answer. He only stopped once I gave him a withering glare and mouthed, Shush yourself. Not quite proper, but Miss Gennadi had already cried one today.


    ¡°Thank you for coming,¡± Kaki says. ¡°I really can¡¯t stand her all by myself.¡±


    ¡°I know, Kaki.¡±


    He steps forward and presses the door open.


    Inside is not nearly as glamorous. Unlike the other two Enlighteneds, Enlightened Everleigh does not have an affinity towards the riches that being a member of the Court and overseer of the Industries enable her. The Enlighteneds work to own and share the business of the people, to ensure they work fairly and justly. With that, they divide up profits, making themselves a substantial core reason as to why business is smooth in this City. In pay, she gets a little bit of the profit for herself, as well as the blessings paid for her by the Temples for being Purely Enlightened. But she never spends it.


    A large stone table sits in the middle of the room. In front of it, eight large stone chairs. On the largest sits Everleigh, holding a cup of warm marrow tea.


    She sits with her back completely straight. Her face is a construct of lines sharper than a knife and a nose longer than my thumb. Her eyes are small, predatorial, and her hair is jet-black, like Kaki¡¯s, only she cares for it even less than he does. Even still, there is a touch of grace in the way she pulls it sloppily back with a cheaply made band. Her dress is her only indication of her extremely high class, the Kirill class. It is a dazzling, gold dress of a material I do not know the name of. It sparkles beneath the green shroom lamps and against the bouncing light of the Suns that catch from the windows.


    Her skin radiates from both the Suns and the lack of plague. She quite literally glows. Here, she is a goddess amongst mere mortals.


    It smells faintly musty and desolate, as compared to the sweet sweat of everywhere else in this tower.


    ¡°Bakiyoria,¡± Enlightened Everleigh says.


    I curtsy in front of her, then raise my palm to my head in respect. ¡°Enlightened.¡±


    ¡°Nadya,¡± she says. She glances at her nephew. It¡¯s an odd glance. Not a single muscle in her face moves, so it feels more like a statue turning around.


    I cringe at my own improper thought.


    ¡°Bakiyoria,¡± she says. ¡°How are your studies coming?¡±


    ¡°Well,¡± he says. ¡°I think.¡±


    ¡°That¡¯s good.¡±


    A long silence stretches.


    ¡°Have you begun your Thesis?¡± she asks.


    ¡°No.¡±


    ¡°Mm. You should. The Trials approach quickly.¡±


    ¡°I am not quite fond of them.¡±


    ¡°You have to be, Bakiyoria. You have to be. You have to wear a nice coat¡­. what is that coat you wear? Why is it that color? You must be better, Bakiyoria, you must have a con¡­.¡± She trails off. That¡¯s when I notice the two figures standing in the back of the room.


    A tall man with growths coming out of his cheeks and a young woman wearing a similarly fancy dress of blue and white. Not quite as extravagant as the Enlightened¡¯s, but she must be a powerful woman.


    Kaki fidgets with the hem of his shirt uncomfortably against the silence. Enlightened Everleigh just stares.


    Outside, there comes the shouting of voices in the courtyard.


    When I dare to adjust my skirt, the rustling of fabric echoes so loudly Kaki glances back at me in surprise.


    ¡°Um¨C¡± Kaki begins.


    Enlightened Everleigh¡¯s eyes are closed. She¡¯s fallen asleep, rigid in her chair.


    Kaki awkwardly coughs into his fist. he nods at the two figures in the back. ¡°One moment.¡± He slowly approaches his aunt and then gently rocks her by the shoulder. ¡°Enlightened. Enlightened. Enl¨C¡±


    She wakes up just as suddenly as she had slept.


    Another agonizing silence.


    When Kaki comes to see the Enlightened on his own, there is half a chance that it will end up just like this and half a chance that she will be overly active, her mind racing with endless, nonsensical possibilities. I¡¯m not sure which is worse.


    As though nothing had happened, she glances over her shoulder.


    ¡°There are two figures here that would like to speak to you and I granted them permission to do so. Alranath will make up for your lesson tomorrow.¡±


    ¡°What?¡± Kaki says. ¡°I mean¨Cyes. Of course. Certainly.¡±


    The man and woman step forward cordially.


    The tall man wears an even taller hat, his silhouette dwarfing Kaki¡¯s. It is a traditional elm¡¯s hat, just an extra extra large one. The sort the highest-division Yevenian priests wear in Mecraentos, and all over the kingdom.


    Kaki blanches and his fists tighten into balls. ¡°Hello, Father.¡±


    The woman¡¯s eyes are deeply sunken and she hunches like a crone, but she can¡¯t be more than a few cycles older than me. Kaki bows. ¡°Lightened Ranna.¡±


    I curtsy similarly.


    ¡°With Miss Everleigh¡¯s permission,¡± the Father says, ¡°we would like to take you on a walk, Bakiyoria.¡±


    The informal wording catches me off guard and sends immediate discomfort coursing through me. Who does this man think he is, talking like that? Especially a Father? He should know better.


    ¡°A walk?¡± Kaki repeats.


    ¡°So we have the illusion of privacy, if you will,¡± Lightened Ranna says.


    The way she says ¡®privacy¡¯ bothers me. It¡¯s like she suddenly obtained a Tanasoran accent just for that one word.


    ¡°Um, sure,¡± Kaki says.


    The look he gives me screams, help me, but I am powerless to do anything. I watch as he leads the pair out of the room.


    I turn to curtsy before the Enlightened. ¡°Farewell, my¨C¡±


    ¡°Nadya,¡± she interrupts, looking over my head which feels more disconcerting than if she were to stare at my nose. ¡°I had to execute a dear friend today.¡±


    That catches me completely off-guard. ¡°I¨Coh?¡±


    This is not the first time I¡¯ve accompanied Kaki and been left to deal with Enlightened Everleigh on my own. Normally, she offers tea, asks me to dust the windows or something, and rambles about stories on the battlefield or of politics I do not understand, maybe of readings I cannot see. One time, she spoke of a lover I am not sure was real. Each time, a glimpse into her mind has left me ashamedly disturbed, for there are great moments, when you hear the genius behind the woman who ended the Sixty Seven Cycle War.


    ¡°Yes,¡± she says. ¡°It was tragic.¡±


    The light in the room dims. The sunlight that filters in the room funnels into a singular point, towards her outstretched hand. ¡°I loved her, as did many others.¡± She raises her head, showing off her neck. There is blood on it. ¡°This would be the equivalent of a kiss.¡±


    I¡¯m not sure what to say.


    ¡°Nadya, my nephew¡­ he has been sneaking around Mecraentos City, hasn¡¯t he?¡±


    I gulp. I can¡¯t lie to an Enlightened, can I?


    She nods, my silence her answer. ¡°I do not know what he is doing. He knows nothing of the real world. Neither of you do. Nadya, write this down so I do not forget.¡±


    ¡°I can¡¯t write, Enlightened. I¡¯m of Ospry¨C¡±


    ¡°When was the last time you had your Soul checked?¡±


    ¡°Three moons ago.¡±


    This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road. If you spot it on Amazon, please report it.


    She beckons me over. ¡°Come. Sit at my feet.¡± When I do, she undoes my bun and runs her hands through my frizzy hair, sending tingling sensations up and down my spine. My heart seems to stop. I do not understand why she is always so kind to me, so open. ¡°I must remember this. Bakiyoria will accompany me to visit the Slaughter Houses tonight, after Father Kenshi and Ranna are done speaking with him. Tonight, there will be a Feast, but my nephew won¡¯t be happy during it. He won¡¯t. He never is, no matter what I do.¡±


    ¡°He may,¡± I try.


    ¡°He will not be. He does not believe¡­ he cannot think¡­.¡±


    It feels like she is talking to the wall behind me more than myself.


    ¡°I must remember this. I cannot forget,¡± she mutters. ¡°I must remember this. I must explain to him. I must explain to him.¡±


    ¡°I will try my best to remind you at the Feast,¡± I tell her.


    Every week, all the nobles of the Gerasim and Kirill classes¨Cthe Enlighteneds and the near perfectly Pure¨Cand their youth have a Feast, a dinner, together. It is a high class event considering those classes consist of only ten families. The adults talk politics and Court-matters I cannot understand while the children prepare for the day they have to.


    ¡°I am going to send Bakiyoria to the high-castle Du with Alranath, so he can meet the young princess of the Cratic¡­ yes, that¡¯s a wonderful idea. Continue studies in history¡­.¡±


    My jaw hangs open for a second. Kaki? In the Cratic? The ice country hundreds and hundreds and hundreds of legs from here?


    ¡°He will not like that. He¡¯s fond of you. Or will I? I don¡¯t know. I must ask Iolanda. Oh, oh, oh.¡± She makes a groaning noise. She is losing it.


    I know the name Iolanda, but I can¡¯t put a face to it. One of her servants?


    ¡°Enlightened,¡± I say tentatively. ¡°Would you like me to fetch one of your personal servants?¡±


    ¡°Yes.¡± She groans again. ¡°No. I want to be alone.¡±


    I take that at face-value and venture to leave as quickly as I can.


    ***


    I don¡¯t see Kaki until the Feast, so I don¡¯t know what happened during that walk of his. I would have gone to tend to him but, when I came back to my chamber, Missus Yarna berated me over hiding during the storm and gave me three huge baskets of wet laundry and rags to hand-wash. I did so in silence, waiting for Kaki to sneak up behind me, but he never did. Yarna always tries to prevent him from entering our Wing if he does not explicitly come with me. Sometimes he manages a way but, if he was distracted by whatever was discussed on that walk, there¡¯s a high chance he might have snuck back into the Tyn Tower to read his wordless books.


    I stand in the First Kitchen beside Missus Yarna, putting the meat pies on trays I¡¯ve washed countless times.


    I am Kaki¡¯s personal maid but that does not exempt me from certain General Duties.


    My stomach grumbles at the smell. Us servants eat last and there are only a specific number of pounds of meat we are expended, divided up into rations that are delivered to our floors. Other than that, we fast for Purity.


    Other servants are lined up beside me. Chi-Chi, Walas, and Ponnie, the young servants to different noble children. They venture between the Kitchen and the Hall to set the dishes and wash wooden utensils as chatter from beyond the walls bleeds through. The young noble children are between ten and sixteen¨Cthe age of adulthood¨Cchatter in small groups as they wait to be seated. There are fifteen children born to ten Court families.


    The Kitchen is separated by a thin wall with a curtain opening for ventilation. I crouch and peer through it, searching for Kaki. Instead, I see a glamorous room with long, thin windows every leg. Chandeliers hang from the ceiling, bright red carpets line the floor, and the stone walls are painted white. The place illuminates. It smells fresh and clean. The nobles and their children stand around in ornate cloaks and frocks and tall hats. Special belts and buckles, tall boots that reach up to the knees. But, of course, Kaki is not there.


    ¡°Nadya,¡± Missus Yarna snaps.


    ¡°Sorry, Missus.¡±


    ¡°She¡¯s looking for her lover,¡± Walas teases. He is a spindly boy with brown hair and small eyes.


    I glare at him. ¡°He is my friend.¡±


    ¡°He is not your friend or¨CSuns forbid¨Cyour lover,¡± Missus Yarna says, handing me a rag to wipe my hands with. ¡°You are his servant. Do not disillusion yourself so, Nadya. Walas, do not say things like that.¡±


    ¡°Sorry, Missus,¡± we say in unison.


    Missus Yarna is an old woman, in her late-twenties, covered in plague. Her legs do not work right and she has spasms in her right arm. She used to work for Enlightened Daniya, but has been rendered useless as her sickness catches up to her. The black veins on her face make it so that her skin is both brown and black weaved together. Her teeth are sharp and there are warts on her neck. So she was given the task of teaching this new generation of servants.


    Mister Oan, another older servant, rings a bell in the Dining Hall, indicating that the Feast has begun.


    The Hall is divided down the middle with one of those red carpets. The side which I am able to see from the kitchen is reserved for the youth. One singular table made of black wood, with expensively woven table mats made of huge white leaves that can only be found in the Cratic. The nobles take their seats on the floor¨Can indication of their youth and Purity that they do not need special seating accommodations because of any plague symptoms¨Cas their Purity keeps the plague away from them for longer. My knees hurt just from looking at the deep squat they all perform with ease and grace.


    Chi-Chi, Walas, Ponnie, and I walk out with the first course, serving first the three Enlighteneds, then the Lightened adults, then the youth.


    Both the men and women have their hair up in elaborate braids or buns. After I set down their plates, I touch my own bun, highly aware of its messiness.


    When I come to the table of youths¨CKaki still not present¨Cmy eyes are immediately drawn to Lightened Roe.


    Lightened Roe is one of the oldest noble children. She¡¯s tall too, taller than any of the guys, with a hawkish face and dark blue veins that curl up from her arms to her face. The plague is most visible around her nose and mouth¨Cblack teeth and black spots on her skin¨Cbut she doesn¡¯t try to cover it up. She dresses flashier than the other girls, her dress more sheer. The boys glance at her provocatively, vying for her attention and future marriage¨Cshe will be eligible in a cycle. She smiles, almost entertaining them, but when she looks towards Chrysan, another noble girl, she just rolls her eyes. They are completely oblivious. What I note, though, is the fact that her lips are chapped. They are always chapped.


    Lightened Roe and Kaki aren¡¯t friends. He is not friends with anyone at that table and, by extension, that means I do not get to see them often, or to know much about them.


    Unlike what Missus Yarna believes, I have no desire to be friends with the other nobles. I am not so disillusioned.


    But, one night, I had been punished for either taking too long with the dishes or for being late or because I had snuck around with Kaki, I was forced to clean the sewers in the courtyard. It is the worst, having to smell everyone excrements and trash. I had run across the yard, looking for a suitable bush to puke behind.


    Lightened Roe had been playing in the yard, sat on a crate, her pipe elegant, her song even more so.


    She saw me and said, ¡°Little girl, are you alright?¡±


    Hearing that melody, my nausea faded away. I was mesmerized by her song.


    She smiled. ¡°This song is called Turning Wind.¡±


    I ran back to the sewers as fast as I could, too scared to say anything. She doesn¡¯t remember me, of course, but I watch her sometimes. I appreciate that she talks back to the noble boys when they make snide comments about girls like Ponnie, who is small and girlish. Kaki tells me she often argues with her parents, but no one knows what about. Only that she is known for her temper, for never being satisfied. Yet, to me, she looks so sure of herself. I often wonder how such girls can be.


    I catch myself staring and turn away.


    I pick up a new tray of delicacies, stepping through the curtains, when the doors to the Hall fly open, sending the front edge of the carpet flying.


    Conversations halt as abruptly as they had started. Stumbling with his shirt unbuttoned, his hair a complete mess, and one pant leg rolled up higher than the other is my dearest friend, Kaki.


    I wish I were in the Kitchen.


    ¡°Nadya!¡± he says, a grin breaking out on his face. He doesn¡¯t yell the word¨Cin fact, he whispers it¨Cbut he might as well have yelled against the silence. He should have walked over to the Enlighteneds, at least Enlightened Daniya and Alranath, to pay his respects and thank the noble adults for blessing him with the opportunity for this dinner. Then he should have immediately, and loudly, thanked Kirill and Gerasim for such blessings. Most do so in their head but, for arriving so late, it would be seen as rude to just barge in without any appreciation for the troubles that everyone else went through to be on time.


    Kaki¡¯s Soul my be Pure, but that does not exempt him from basic etiquette.


    Instead, he says my name. I cringe. ¡°Lightened,¡± I say stiffly, hoping he realizes how horrible he looks right now.


    He approaches me and doesn¡¯t even let me curtsy before leaning in closer than is proper and whispering softly, so no one can hear, ¡°Nadya, I have discovered something very¨C¡±


    Out of the corner of my eye, I see Walas smirk and a few noble children turning their heads, murmuring amongst themselves. I do not even want to glance at the adult table.


    ¡°Kaki,¡± I hiss. ¡°Stop. Not now. You are at a Feast.¡±


    He seems irritated. ¡°So? I don¡¯t care what people think of me.¡±


    Normally, he cares at least a little bit. Suns, he is infuriating. ¡°Kaki. You have an image to keep up.¡±


    ¡°Nadya, you know that doesn¡¯t matter to me.¡±


    Ever since he had decided that he gave absolutely zero care about the Trials, he¡¯s become more careless. This seems irregular, however. There is an unusual wildness in his eyes.


    ¡°Go sit down and I will bring you a plate or I will personally drag you there myself, you ungrateful¨C¡± I start.


    There is a tap on my shoulder. Walas, passing by with a stack of empty plates, nods his head for me to follow.


    I paster a smile to my face. ¡°Sit down, Lightened. Please.¡±


    ¡°As you wish, ma¡¯am,¡± Kaki mutters.


    ¡°Ma¡¯am,¡± one of the nobles mutters with a smirk. I walk away as fast as I can with my head down.


    When I am back in the kitchen, Missus Yarna gives me a withering glare. ¡°Nadya, you¡ª¡±


    ¡°I didn¡¯t know he would do that!¡± I say. I cover my mouth, reminding myself to keep a quiet volume. ¡°Missus. I¡¯m sorry, really.¡±


    She tuts and hands me another rag.


    The only window in the Kitchen is above the wash bin. Outside, I see Miss Gennadi with a small child on her back, followed by two other servants. They are crouched on the ground in front of an open vent. They are working to fix a leak. Miss Gennadi, dirt on her hands and knees. When she glances up, she makes eye contact with me, allowing herself a weak smile. I smile back. It grounds me.


    I am then directed to serve the adults instead of the youth, to keep away from mKaki, who cannot sit still for the life of him. He fidgets with the table cloth and does not even attempt to make small talk with the other kids, just taps his spoon over and over and over until it feels like he¡¯s trying to imitate an alarm.


    I know what sort of small talk they would have made with him anyways. ¡®Soulless, was it you that brought the storm from earlier?¡¯ ¡®Soulless, what happens when you pray?¡¯ ¡®Soulless, what would happen if a knife were stabbed through your heart? Would you be reborn?¡¯ ¡®Soulless, how are your visions doing?¡¯ ¡®What visions, I don¡¯t have visions!¡¯ ¡®But it¡¯s rumored you do.¡¯


    Kaki claims that if the conversation is not about his being Pure but not Enlightened¨CSoulless¨Cor abusing our religion, the conversation switches to his relationship with Enlightened Everleigh¨Cby far the most popular of the Enlighteneds. ¡®What was it like to grow up with someone like her, Lightened?¡¯ or ¡®What is it like to grow up without the plague?¡¯


    I know that this is true, but I also know that Kaki does not put in the effort to let everyone else know about his passions, nor does he try to ask about the passions of his peers. Some are envious of his Purity, sure, but not all. These children know to be civil.


    I catch the glares the other boys give him. One of the youngest, Lightened Hun, says, quiet, ¡°What, are you restless without your girl at your side, Yoria? Do you need her to fix your hair?¡±


    Lightened Angelo elbows Lightened Hun in the ribs. ¡°Knock it off. Sorry, Yoria.¡±


    Kaki ignores them both, keeps eating and not talking and being entertained by whatever goes on in that strange mind of his. They call him Yoria because it is feminine. Kaki actually liked the nickname more than Kaki, which he says sounds childish, until they began to tease him with it. He hates Bakiyoria even more.


    ¡°Yoria, do you enjoy playing Picket Ball? A few of the others boys will be playing later, after the Feast if you would like to join.¡±


    Kaki doesn¡¯t even look at him.


    Then comes the ¡®main course¡¯ of the Feast.


    Two of the adults on the other side of the room approach the youth¡¯s side. They are not typically at the Feasts, I recognize. Us servants are issued away, but I can still hear the words being said through the thin walls.


    ¡°Lighteneds,¡± says one of the voices. Gravelly and deep, but a woman¡¯s. ¡°I am Lightened Kattalina, and this is Sherava. We are here to present to you a wondrous opportunity, one that has not been available to the generations before you. It is called the Sen-Fair. It is a retreat that has been in the works¨Cdesign and build¨Cfor multiple Cycles, to provide better Purifying techniques to help you better yourselves and achieve your goal of ascending into Enlightenedhood. To moving one step closer towards beating the plague. We have already spoken to your parents. While the retreat is voluntary, it is highly recommended by us and the Enlighteneds who have approved it.¡±


    ¡°It is also a form of bonding with your peers, as well as a sort of self-discovery program. If you are under the age of ten, the retreat will not be open to you, unfortunately, but I do not believe that applies to any of you. There will be games and lectures. Meditations and work,¡± Lightened Sherava announces.


    ¡°Even if you do not find the solace we hope you do,¡± Lightened Kattalina continues, ¡°this may be a well-deserved break in your personal studies, before the Trials.¡±


    The Trials. A grand test of knowledge that all of the nobles are subjected to around the end of the Cycle--which is just a little over a Peaking away. Each noble has their own set of personal tutors, attaining a specific realm of political, historical, and medical knowledge as well as having a focus in a certain subject that would better the greater good of the people in order to be deemed worthy of a seat in the Court, a group of nobles chosen to rule alongside the Enlighteneds.


    Kaki believes the Trials to be contrived and stupid.


    When the Feast is over, the noble children go to speak to the adults, to better discuss their new opportunities. Us servants have to clean up after them. They slowly filter out of the Dining Hall. Enlightened Everleigh gestures for Kaki to stay back. I realize I forgot to remind the Enlightened of our earlier conversation. I doubt it was very important, if she were to forget. I do not even know if what she was rambling about had any real or substantial thought process behind it.


    Besides, if it is about sending Kaki to the Cratic¡­.


    I know I should be better, following the Enlightened¡¯s wishes. But I do not want Kaki taken away from me.


    They speak softly. I cannot hear them. I would move closer, but Miss Yarna says warningly, ¡°Nadya.¡±


    ¡°Yes, Missus.¡±


    As I am putting away the white-woven place mats, I notice something glimmering beneath one. I pick it up.


    It¡¯s a necklace. A pearl necklace, delicate and gorgeous in my hand. It must be the most expensive, elegant thing I have ever touched. the distinct roundness of the pearls is incredible, so perfectly¡­ carved. How is this done? I¡¯ll have to ask Kaki. Why was it left here?


    I realize who left it, a distinct memory of the neck whom it was tied around. Lightened Roe.


    I should give it to Missus Yarna or Kaki to return. I know I should.


    Instead, I palm the beautiful necklace in the pocket of my dress.

 Ash and Stone V - Asaio

    ASAIO


    Upon Seht''s dramatic faintin, Isaela rushes to wake up her mother. She stirs with a jolt, like she''s wakin up from a bad nightmare.


    "Isaela?"


    "Shh, Mama," Isaela whispers. "It''s just Asaio and the orphans. They need help."


    Sans sits up from the stone slab immediately, even though I can see the pain and exhaustion clear in her eyes. "Oh no." She swings herself off of the slab and moves to tend to Seht without so much as a greetin. She has Isaela sit him up and rushes into the back for her medical supplies, but I can see through her thin dress that her entire back is covered in black pores and that she''s limpin weirdly. When Sans throws the back door compartment open, I catch the glimpse of chains.


    "She don''t look well," I say.


    Isaela smiles sadly. "Yeah, well, that''s life, ain''t it? I''ve had a good one, with her."


    I nod as Sans directs Flynn, tellin him to wipe some sort of salve on his forehead while she throws a few stones on his wrists.


    "You ever wonder about your parents? Who they were?" Isaela asks, pressin her lenses higher up her nose.


    "Nah," I say. Not unless someone prompts me to, like her, or Seht. It don''t matter much to me, who birthed me if the Garnets were the ones who raised me. I tug on my cloak, on Mono-Man''s skin.


    See, family in a city like Mecraentos is difficult. They''re hard to maintin. Marriage is happenin less and less. Our death to birth ratio is probably completely out of proportion. Even if someone wants to have kids, it seems so cruel to bring em into this world, so why bother? Or that''s what I think. Shis-Aspinova thinks it''s Pure and good to bring in new life, so I dunno. But I feel like it ain''t worth it. You have a kid at twenty cycles old and you only got five or six left with em, max a good nine or ten. A lot of mothers have kids younger, though. Sans was pregnant at thirteen and has lived longer than most, thanks to her own medical care.


    I can''t imagine that: Isaela or Ellie-Darlin pregnant. They''re around the same age as Sans was. It don''t sit right. I can''t imagine raisin a kid either. Havin to watch Uyala and Kim, the youngest two in our group, grow up hardened is difficult enough.


    As Sans works, Isaela whispers, "I''ll miss her."


    "Me too."


    I ain''t infected. One day, one of my friends will succumb to the plague. And then another. And then another. I''ll have to watch em lose their minds, tired and numb on a stone table like this, and I''ll have to say, "I''ll miss him. I''ll miss her." I can''t imagine that day.


    I can''t imagine how Isaela feels, so I just walk over and take her hand, swingin it idly. It''s covered in new calluses.


    Seht stirs with a gasp, and Sans coaxes him back into sedation, then she moves on to check on Ellie-Darlin. Sans is a woman of short stature and was once probably a real beauty, but the plague makes her face hard to look at, since the skin looks almost like it''s completely meltin off. But, when she''s lookin over you, despite her physical state degradin, you can see that real motherly look in her black eyes and you feel like nothin can hurt you. Nothin at all.


    I sigh. Isaela says, "Y''all need to stop by more often."


    "We will."


    She raises her right hand, a smirk formin. I raise mine too. Then I flick my middle and ring finger. She does the same, then with her pointer. It''s an elaborate set of hand motions that don''t make any sense to anyone but us--I''m not even sure it makes sense to us, but we have it memorized and synchronized perfectly.


    We developed the handshake cycles ago cause we ran out of safe games to play and couldn''t afford any toys, back when I still lived in an orphanage.


    I lean forward and kiss her on the cheek. She may not be a Garnet, but she''s like a sister to me and, if she ever needs it, I''ll always be at her beckon and call.


    ***


    While Sans works on the other Garnets, insistin that even though Flynn and Ellie-Darlin feel ''fine'' they are never really ''fine'', I step outside of the apothecary. I close my eyes and let myself slip into the brush and wood around me, seein and feelin the world through the whisperin leaves that drape over the buildin, tryin to locate Asher, if he hasn''t gone yet.


    The leaves make contact with skin and I smile. I find him still atop a rooftop about five legs away.


    "Hi, Asher," I call into the empty-lookin sky. "You can come out. We''re gonna leave soon--the Suns are comin out. We''d rather you just tag along than follow us."


    Silence. Then, he says from above, "It''s the leaves that let you see me, isn''t it? I feel them moving. And you moved them earlier, with your hands. You wanted me to see that."


    "Yep. It''s okay to be amazed. I''m awesome."


    If Seht were awake, he''d punch me in the ribs real hard. Isaela would laugh before doin the same.


    "How... you''re gift is... moving trees?"


    "Nah," I say. "I don''t got the plague, far as I know."


    "That''s impossible."


    "Maybe I''m a late bloomer or somethin," I say. "I ain''t even got black veins yet, though. Do you wanna come down or nah? You don''t gotta be so wary of us."


    "I don''t know," Asher says. "I think I like it up here."


    "So are you stalkin just to stalk or do you want somethin?"


    "I''m just curious, that''s all."


    "Curious bout us?" I shrug. "If you wanted to come live with us, you coulda just said so. Didn''t Michie say somethin about sendin you to us?"


    "I don''t want to live with you guys. Or... no, I want to take care of Michie and Madge. They need it."


    "But...?"


    "But you guys seem like interesting enough company. And I saw your scouts, the two girls, watching over our neighbors. They made sure that old Hengar didn''t fall of his balcony again. I appreciate that, looking over the neighborhood."


    "Oh, we love Hengar," I say.


    "Is he your father?"


    "Hengar? My father?" I laugh. "Nah, nah not at all."


    "So why do you all look over him like that?"


    "Kindness of our hearts? I dunno. A lot of the people on Punnet Street have been good to us."


    "Oh."


    "Why not just ask to come with if you were curious and wanted to talk? It''s a lot less efficient to just watch us from afar and hope you got the answers you want."


    He hesitates. "I wasn''t sure how many other Garnets I''d be seeing right now. Michie said there''s twenty of you?"


    Ah. He didn''t wanna be ambushed. "Little less than that," I say. "But most of the time, there''s only a few of us at home. Some are lookin after Punnet, some got personal business, and some just don''t stay in one place ever."


    "The girl in there--is she a Garnet?"


    "Isaela? Nah." I smile, knowin he probably saw our little handshake. "She''s mostly my friend. Don''t really know the others too well and she doesn''t try to."


    If you come across this story on Amazon, it''s taken without permission from the author. Report it.


    That''s what makes Isaela not a Garnet. See, with Lahla, who was on Punnet patrol tonight, she goes from street to street. But even if she don''t live with us, if we get word to her, she''ll be at our call real quick. I''m not too close to Lahla, a lot less close to her than I am with Isaela, but I know I can count on her to cover for me whenever I need it. Isaela? She lives to serve herself and her mother. If I really need somethin from her, she''ll do it, but mostly cause it''s me that asked. If it were Lahla who asked, who she''s only met once, she''d probably decline and tell her to shove it.


    "You gonna keep shadowin us until we reach our home?"


    "Will the other Garnets notice?"


    "Oh, definitely. You don''t gotta come down from there, but I highly recommend it. Lahla tried to sneak her way into our home--she followed us too, thinkin that we had good stashes of food or something--and got her arm broken by Vernon upon first meetin cause she got caught. Now they''re lovers."


    Suddenly, a clatterin of bells from a couple blocks down comes on. A mornin-breakfast line for the Soup Shop, stews of fresh meat and flavored water and tree sap. You got to line up early for your rations. We don''t bother goin anymore, unless we''re really desperate and haven''t been able to nab nothin from a tourist or a healthy-enough body to leech off cause those lines take literal Cycles to get through. There''s no guarantee that you will obtain your rations for the day.


    The rustlin of leaves indicates that Asher''s flinchin at the sound. He mutters, "Damn it."


    "You don''t trust us, that''s alright," I say. "But if you''re gonna spy, just walk in and save yourself some trouble. We can impress Vernon, presentin you like a hero that saved Michie for us."


    "I''m no hero."


    "I''d be concerned if you thought you were in a City like this. Come with us or go back to Michie."


    "You''re giving me choices," he says. "Stop that."


    I blink. "What?"


    He rustles but does not answer.


    "My name''s Asaio, not Garnet, by the way," I say. "To clear up from earlier."


    "That was a joke," he says, but he sounds uncertain.


    "Yeah." I grin. "You can laugh."


    I like knowin what my friends'' laughs are like the back of my hand--and I have a good feelin Asher''s gonna stick around, even if he''s wary now. Seht hardly laughs but when he does it''s loud, obnoxious. Makes itself known. Ellie-Darlin''s got a giggle she can''t contain. Flynn more smiles than laughs. Isaela, when she really finds somethin funny, she snorts a lot and when she tries to hide the fact that she''s laughin, she ends up sneezin instead. Asher? Asher''s laughin like he''s got to keep it secret.


    I hear him climbin down the rooftops. He lands silently. He still wears his black cloak and carries the quiver on his back. When we make eye contact, the first thing I notice is how large his eyes are. Big and black, almost unproportional to his skinny freckled face.


    "You got good eyes," I tell him.


    "Good eyes?"


    "Yeah. Like a deep void, or the sky when there''s a storm sort of black."


    "I used to be called Pearl because of them."


    "I used to be called Piebald cause of mine." Seran gave me the name, actually. Vernon''s older brother. He''s dead now.


    Asher leans froward. Not too close, not close enough for me to hug or punch or anythin, but just enough for me to see my two-colored eyes, one blue and one brown, and the scar that hugs the entire right side of my face. I don''t see my reflection too often, but I know the scar distorts my right eye, keeps the lid halfway closed most of the time. That cheek''s swollen and that side of my lip''s bigger than the other, and my teeth are all crooked, and one ear is half-gone. Unlike Ellie-Darlin, I''ll never be revered for my beauty.


    "You chose the name Asaio?" Asher says.


    "Yep," I say, and I feel like the fact that I did is important to him somehow, even if the name was one I''d taken off a man who''d been tryin to sell Isaela to a brothel when we were real, real young.


    ***


    The newly awakened Seht sits upright against the wall, drinkin from a skin of water. The color in his face has returned. Sans, meanwhile, lays back down on the stone slab with Flynn and Ellie-Darlin tendin to her. They are tyin the chains around her arms. A sick feelin rolls through my stomach. I notice that Isaela is pointedly lookin anywhere else.


    Seht and Isaela ain''t surprised when I come in with Asher, meanin Seht must''ve heard our entire conversation. I notice Asher makes sure not to stand behind me but right besides and nods to Isaela as she admires his bow. Seht just eyes him and says, "Are you ready to be sacrificed for Vernon?"


    "I was waiting for this day," Asher answers. Seht nods approvingly.


    I walk over to Seht and clambor behind so that I can wrap my arms around him. He sighs audibly but doesn¡¯t pull away. ¡°You feelin better?¡±


    ¡°Yes, Asaio,¡± he says.


    I squeeze his chest tighter. ¡°You have to tell us when you ain¡¯t feelin well.¡±


    He shrugs a shoulder. ¡°You can get off now.¡±


    ¡°Nah,¡± I say.


    ¡°Nah?¡±


    ¡°Nah.¡±


    He sighs louder but lets me cling to him, grumblin when I nestle my chin against the crook of his neck. Isaela wakes up Flynn and Ellie, double-checks Ellie¡¯s wound and Flynn¡¯s snakes, then says, ¡°Y¡¯all ought to be goin now.¡±


    I move away from Seht and take out one of the vegetables from the basket. "For you and Sans. Tell her we love her."


    Isaela kisses me on the forehead. "Thank you. Visit, okay?"


    We split up our group, dividin the share of vegetables in order to lessen the loss in case one of us gets mugged. Asher, Flynn and I will be travelin on rooftop. Ellie-Darlin and Seht will be on the ground, movin effortlessly between crowds and coaches on the streets.


    We part ways. Flynn and I show Asher our main route on the roofs. Since most of the buildins are slanted and fallin apart, it can be hard to find safe vantage points. I still prefer the questionably stable paths to the streets--which are so hot and crowded it feels like you''re drownin. We show him the different grips we use, how we have Nep and Pen move ahead of us and test whether or not a board is stable before we take our step.


    We pass through Market Street, a central hub for places like the Soup Shop; the bathrooms, the meat sellers, the water rations, the clothes rations--all of which you got to wear in long, long lines for. Different industry-run companies got their sellers there too, with new gadgets and such from the factories, but only certain people of certain Purity can look at those things. There''s a load of recreational stands too, like necklaces of stone and bone, but those are real expensive and aimed at tourists. Most people go to Market Street for instruments, though, or to listen to live performances. From all the way out here, the bangin off clashin drums, different rhythms, and wood pipes and lyres become as chaotic as the yellin of the crowds.


    I can hear the shouts from legs away, smell the fresh urine and feces tucked in the alleys beside it. The Market would have once been colorful, but the bug lickers have gradually taken away all of our dyed rugs and mats and baskets lately cause they weren''t "Purely made." Another long line to a glass bulidin indicates that it''s home to the Soul Checkers. They do some fancy schmancy science to see if you''ve still got fractures in our Soul or somethin.


    But the commotion in the Market is louder than usual, and limbs are thrown around--I see a decapitated arm slam someone''s eyeless face. Bug lickers spill out of coaches, with their pleated snakeskin uniforms and expensive hats. They''re tryin to push against the crowd, raisin torches and unslingin muskets from their backs to forge a path for themselves.


    "What''s happening?" Flynn whisper, comin up beside me on an empty balcony.


    "Rumble or protest or both." I grin at Flynn. "Let''s take the shortcut."


    "I don''t like the shortcut," he says as his snakes hiss in excitement.


    I look over to Asher. "You up for a challenge? Or are you a wuss?"


    "A wuss," Asher repeats. His dark eyes glimmer. "I''m anything but a wuss."


    "Good."


    "I might be a wuss," Flynn says, adjustin the bag that he has holdin the vegetables to be more secure.


    "Nah. You''re braver than any of us, really. See? Nep and Pen agree."


    "What''s the shortcut?" Asher asks.


    "The warehouse is at the far end of that street," I say. "All the way over there. Yeah. That one. Tucked away. You can''t really see it. We can climb all the way around, jumpin from rooftop to rooftop, but that takes a while. You see them wires in the air? They''re connectin all them fancy energy sources for the factories. They''re sturdy and we''re small. Flynn''s a little less small now but that don''t matter. That one, right there? That one''s connected with that street lamp over there, and right there? That''s the warehouse."


    Asher''s eyes widen as he realizes what I''m sayin. "Easy way to get hurt."


    "But effective when you''re bein chased by men triple your weight. They can''t even cut em or else the factories will lose power."


    I approach the pole which the wire hangs. I pull of my cloak and drape it over the wire, winkin at Asher. Then, with a deep breath, I take a few steps back and launch myself forward. The cloak screams against the wire and I scream with it, narrowly dodgin hangin branches and clothes. That''s our assurance--if this thing were to snap, I could whisper us a safety net.


    Flynn and Asher follow suit. We''re whoopin and hollerin against the risin Suns, utterly weightless.


    ***


    We land on the roof of the warehouse. We''ve sealed off the doors; makes it harder for the Lime Men and the Child-Nappers and the Bug Lickers and the Rubies to get us. We wait a while for Seht and Ellie-Darlin, lettin the slowly warmin air coat us.


    Asher''s face is pinkish and he''s breathin heavily. He presses his hand against his chest. "My heart is beating so fast."


    The top of the warehouse is made of a solid concrete skeleton and a wooden exterior with only trapdoors and grates for openings. The doors are wired so that someone inside has to pull at the same time as the door¡¯s bein opened¡ªthe work of Shimmy, our smartest Garnet, much too smart to be livin with us.


    When Seht and Ellie-Darlin arrive, she says, "You took the shortcut without us?"


    "Sorry," I say with an impish grin. I grab Asher by the elbow and position him against the rim of the trapdoor as Ellie-Darlin grabs the latch.


    She pulls it open.


    It''s a complete contrast to Market Street. Vibrant and beautiful and full of laughter and life. The walls are decorated with dyed shroom lamps. Crates are stacked to create makeshift rooms and it smells of grace and sweat and smoke, but there''s a sweetness to it I can''t describe. Or maybe that''s my own biased love. Strapped to the walls are ladders and pipes and slides and toys and chests for playin. Scattered are broken metal sheets and other scraps we''ve collected over the cycles, like tattered blankets and broken instruments and art. Useless things thrown out on front porches.


    This abandoned trash dump is our haven.


    The remainin Garnets are laughin or talkin, curled up in cots or on the ground. Some are cookin in the corner. Some hang upside down on the ladders. I see Vernon playin his mornin fiddle tune--our wake-up alarm. Crimson''s yellin at him to shut his pipe, elicitin even more laughter and a few worn-down shoes thrown in Vernon''s direction.


    I wrap my arms around Asher¡¯s shoulders with a grin, testin to see if he flinches or not like Seht and Ellie-Darlin and Flynn did before they finally decided affection is nice sometimes. He doesn''t.


    ¡°Them right there,¡± I say, ¡°are the Garnets.¡±

 Ash and Stone VI - Nadya

    NADYA


    I feel as though I¡¯m about to be smited with the necklace in my pocket. A heavy weight that causes me to nearly trip over the stairs as I carry a basket of Kaki¡¯s clean laundry. In it, I leave a piece of bone I stole from the kitchen with a sloppily carved smiley face.


    I open up the door to his chamber. I¡¯m not really supposed to be here by myself, but Kaki doesn¡¯t care and his room is the only in this entire wing, as he is the only person who is completely Pure, but not Enlightened¨Cthe Gerasim class. However, he often says that Enlightened Everleigh wants to isolate him on purpose, but he has no foundation for such an accusation.


    I place the basket against the side of his bed and look around, wondering where he must have gone after the Feast.


    His room is extremely neat¨Cand not because of my cleaning. He makes his own bed, keeps his clothes tidy and folded, dusts his windows and mops the floors when I¡¯m not around. he still requests I clean his room on occasion if we haven¡¯t found time to hang out in a while¨Ca gesture that is both sweet and causes Missus Yarna to raise her brow and tell me, ¡°Nadya.¡±


    There is nothing personal about this room. He does not keep his study materials here. Has not ever requested a special quilt to be made or any sort of clothes tailored to him that weren¡¯t required of Enlightened Everleigh. Whatever gifts he receives on certain holidays and milestones from the Enlightened or other nobles, he¡¯s hidden them away. It¡¯s customary for noble children to have murals painted in their chambers, either designed by themselves or a close friend. His walls are completely barren. The only personal item that hangs is a gold-encrusted mirror, a gift from Enlightened Alranath.


    I approach the mirror, trying desperately to ignore the burn marks on my face.


    I glance over my shoulder, wondering if someone either than Kaki is about to appear without warning, but that is ridiculous. No one visits Kaki. Then I pull out the necklace and gently drape it over my neck.


    I trace the burn along my cheek with my index figure.


    Maybe if the mark were laced with gold, outlined like a special map, I would be beautiful.


    I am content with the life of servitude. But¡­ it¡¯s hard not to imagine, sometimes, what life would be like if I were not born of the Ospry class. If my Soul were not Purer. And these are ridiculous thoughts because, through hard work and dedication to what blessings I have been given, I can become Purer. But I see the noble girls my age and they get to learn to sing, to drink tea properly, to read. They girls older than me get to go to parties, go to poetry shows. They will not grow old and fussy like Missus Yarna. Sometimes they get married. They have kids.


    It¡¯s not a life I¡¯m sure I would enjoy, but I keep tracing the burn marks, over and over. Nearly thoughtless. More-so that I cannot put words against the warmth that hums in my chest. I can¡¯t make sense of my own feelings.


    I¡¯ve never known who my parents are. They died in whatever fire caused this facial defect. I wonder if their Souls were Ospry too, or if the fire fundamentally damaged mine. I wonder how soon they would have died of the plague if the fire hadn¡¯t gotten to them first. I wonder if I¡¯d have met Kaki if they were still alive.


    I close my eyes and whisper a quick prayer.


    There are three types of prayers. Prayers of Redemption, Prayers of Purity, and Prayers of Gratitude. Depending on which Sun or Moon one is praying to, the words will vary, but most pray to Kirill or Gerasim, the Suns, and then whichever Moon that is the representative of their class, like Ospry. Each Sun and Moon have their preferred rituals and demonstrations of Devotion. My prayer is sharp and quick, as the Ospry is quick¨Cthat was His greatest sin. Taking life too fast. Not being appreciative. So I suppose it is a bit ironic.


    In this case, most would utter a Prayer of Redemption, for not appreciating what life they had been gifted. I utter a Prayer of Gratitude for, in a twisted way, if not for the fire I am not sure what sort of life I would have lived, and thinking of the possibilities snaps me back into reality¨Cthat I would not trade what I have for a book.


    But how lovely it is to imagine.


    The door creaks open. I whip around.


    ¡°Nadya?¡± Kaki says.


    I let out a relieved sigh.


    ¡°Kaki,¡± I say. Then, realizing I¡¯m wearing the necklace of a noble girl, I quickly blush. I wonder if he¡¯s mad at me for dismissing him at the dinner. ¡°Uh¨C¡±


    ¡°What were you doing?¡± He glances at the mirror peculiarly. ¡°Are you vain, Nadya? Really, staring at yourself like that? How surprising.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m not vain,¡± I snap, even though I know it¡¯s not true.


    ¡°Really? It seems like¨C¡±


    ¡°You¡¯re such a boy,¡± I interrupt.


    ¡°And you¡¯re such a girl.¡±


    ¡°What does that mean?¡±


    ¡°Whatever the opposite of what being a boy is, I suppose,¡± he says with a shrug. ¡°Or maybe they¡¯re not opposites. Who knows? What¡¯s that necklace from?¡±


    Quickly, I take it off and slide it back into my pocket. ¡°Nothing. Nowhere. Your laundry is right there.¡±


    He raises a brow. I sigh. We tell each other everything. We don¡¯t have to¨Che won¡¯t press like he did with Miss Gennadi¨Cbut we do. ¡°It was left behind at the Feast. I just¨CI¡¯ll return it, I promise you, but¡­ I don¡¯t know. I don¡¯t have any good reason for taking it.¡±


    ¡°You could keep it.¡± I gape at him. ¡°No one will know.¡±


    ¡°Kaki, no. This isn¡¯t mine.¡±


    ¡°You found it, so it¡¯s yours now.¡±


    ¡°Kaki¨C¡°


    ¡°It¡¯s not like I return the books I find in Mecraentos City after I¡¯ve collected them,¡± he says.


    ¡°Collected,¡± I snort. ¡°Illegally buying.¡±


    He smiles. ¡°Some of them are not bought. They¡¯re borrowed from friends.¡±


    Friends. ¡°That¡¯s worse. The Enlightened knows you¡¯re sneaking out, by the way,¡± I say, recalling our earlier conversation. ¡°She will wonder what you¡¯re doing.¡±


    He shrugs nonchalantly. ¡°Yeah. We talked about it.¡±


    That takes my by surprise. ¡°You talked about it?¡±


    He takes a seat on the edge of his bed, running a hand through his hair. ¡°Yeah. She tells me, I know you¡¯re sneaking around the City, Kaki. It¡¯s dangerous out there, you know. I say, Are you going to stop me? She shakes her head. No. If you are killed, it is not blood on my hands.¡± He laughs, a bitterness in his eyes.


    ¡°Ah,¡± I say. I¡¯m not sure what he wants. An I¡¯m sorry? I cannot relate to having a loving aunt any more than he can. He taps his knee, glancing around, mind churning.


    After a few moments of silence, I ask because I know he must decompress, ¡°How was your walk with the Father and that noble woman?¡±


    ¡°Horrible,¡± he laments. ¡°The Father, he asked me about the storm, about my Purity, about my life as someone who¡¯s Pure but not¨Cyou know, the usual. He¡¯s from Sal Gasve and someone there has started a rumor that I see visions of the past and the future. On top of the normal rumors, like bringing upon drought and storm, but mostly the past and the future¨Che was really insistent on that. The woman is from Sal Gasve too. They wanted me to consent to something called a Cleansing which some guy over in Sal Gasve made up and has been telling everyone I am capable of and that I did for him, making him some sort of special prophet or something? I don¡¯t know. I said no. They kept on insisted. They pulled out needles, Nadya. They wanted to stick them in my eyes to get rid of my ¡®visions of unnatural times.¡¯ They thought that if they did this great act of Cleansing for me then I would grant them the gift of Prophecy. I tried to convince them I truly am nothing special and they said, well our Leader deems otherwise. I had to physically run away from them.¡±


    ¡°Suns,¡± I whisper.


    ¡°Yeah,¡± he says. ¡°But it is alright now. As long as I don¡¯t see them again.¡±


    He has dozens of stories like this.


    Throughout the different cities, there are different prophecies and interpretations of the Yevanian teachings. None agree on the purpose of someone like Kaki, so they seek him. Week after week. Common peoples, Fathers, Mothers, nobles, scholars, and historians of the Industry. When he was smaller and less aware, Kaki had been subjected to various meetings, various rituals. Sometimes he gets gifts. Sometimes he gets threats, deemed as unnatural by those who think they know better than our Suns. If Gerasim and Kirill did not want Kaki to exist, he would not have been born.


    ¡°I do not want to do the Sen-Fair,¡± he says. ¡°I asked Enlightened Everleigh a few questions about it and she was as vague as the cloudy skies. It seems mandatory, though. All the noble families are forcing their kids to do it. Many are eager to get a break before the Trials but¨CI have a feeling it is going to be exactly like what happened on that walk. I do not even need to Purify my Soul anymore, right?¡±


    ¡°Right.¡±


    The narrative has been taken without permission. Report any sightings.


    ¡°Having the Fortress to myself, sort of, would be nice too.¡±


    ¡°Yeah.¡±


    ¡°I don¡¯t suppose Enlightened Everleigh would let me skip out. She seems to barely register anything involving me, anyways.¡±


    ¡°I don¡¯t know, Kaki,¡± I venture. ¡°It could be fun.¡±


    He scoffs. ¡°Hardly, is that a joke?¡±


    ¡°Not all the nobles are too bad, are they?¡± I say. I am unfortunately thinking of Lightened Roe and the necklace. ¡°You have to learn to work with these people. They are future Court and Industry members. Even if you never join the Court or finish your Trials, they are important to know.¡±


    ¡°Yeah, well, I don¡¯t need more friends. I have you, right?¡±


    It bothers me when he speaks like this, as though affirming all of Missus Yarna¡¯s ridiculous worries.


    ¡°You really should keep the necklace.¡± He points at the mirror. I resist the urge to turn towards it. ¡°Or if you don¡¯t, I can have one made for you.¡±


    ¡°They would never allow an Ospry girl to have¨C¡±


    ¡°I can say it is for me and give it to you as a gift. No one can look down on me for kindness.¡±


    ¡°They can, actually. So no.¡±


    ¡°Yes.¡±


    ¡°No.¡±


    ¡°Fine.¡±


    I would be confirming stereotypes of the Ospry class, using Kaki for vain pleasures like that. As though I could not wait until I was Purer to be worthy of something gold.


    I suppose that simply by palming the necklace I have confirmed such stereotypes. My cheeks blush in shame.


    ¡°I¡¯m sorry about dismissing you earlier,¡± I say.


    ¡°What?¡±


    ¡°When I told you go away at the Feast.¡±


    ¡°Nadya, that is how you talk to me everyday.¡±


    ¡°No, I¡¯m very kind to you.¡±


    ¡°Right.¡±


    ¡°Right. I mean, who else would be kind enough to deal with all you disgusting laundry? And to clean your horrendous washroom? Suns, anyone else wouldn¡¯t last a day in the stink. Even now you smell like brine bone and blood and sweat.¡±


    He laughs and leans back. ¡°Yeah, sure, but you like it.¡±


    ¡°You are disgusting.¡±


    A silence falls over us. I give him thirty seconds before he decides to spew about whatever great discovery he was so eager to make a fool of himself for at the Feast.


    He doesn¡¯t. Instead, he says, ¡°You should come with me to Mecraentos City.¡±


    ¡°Excuse me?¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m going to meet someone tonight. The man who sold me the last book. I have questions about what I read and¨C¡±


    ¡°Kaki, that¡¯s dangerous. The City is no place for someone like you.¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s not like anyone will miss me too much if something happens.¡±


    I blanch. ¡°You are so stupid. Suns!¡±


    ¡°Is that a yes or a no?¡±


    ¡°No,¡± I say. ¡°I don¡¯t even understand what the point is, reading wordless books about places that don¡¯t exist anymore written by people who are dead.¡±


    ¡°I tried to explain it to you at the Feast.¡±


    My heart races a bit faster. ¡°I told you, I am dearly sorry about that.¡±


    ¡°No, it¡¯s okay.¡± He shrugs and glances out the window. ¡°You know, it¡¯s nice in the City. Well, not nice. It¡¯s¡­ do you want to know about the City, at least? I won¡¯t tell you if you don¡¯t want to, but don¡¯t you think it¡¯s weird that just because we¡¯re blessed by a different Moon or Sun we don¡¯t even know what the world beyond these walls looks like?¡±


    ¡°No,¡± I say. ¡°I think you and I have been blessed to have such a safe home wtih walls we know won¡¯t crumble and that we shouldn¡¯t take that for granted.¡±


    ¡°You make me sound like a spoiled prince.¡±


    ¡°I think, if you live here, with a room like this one, you¡¯re at least a little bit spoiled. Gerasim loves you.¡±


    ¡°I think you should see the City, Nadya,¡± he says. ¡°Breathe a completely different air. It¡¯s¡­ shocking, to say the least. And the man I am going to meet, he¡¯s a kind man, I can promise you. He cares little for Souls and my lack of Enlightenedment. I suppose it¡¯s a little tragic that he cares so little.¡±


    ¡°Yeah, tragic.¡± I wait for him to elaborate, but he doesn¡¯t. If this is his strategy to get me interested in leaving with him, it¡¯s working. But to run off with an Enlightened¡¯s nephew, a boy of the Gerasim class, to leave the Fortress which I was so blessed to be a part of, when I could easily have been burnt alive as a child or left on the streets to starve as an orphan¨CI do not want to put any of that in jeopardy for the sole indulging of books.


    Kaki can see the answer in my eyes.


    ¡°Okay,¡± he says, not caring to hide his disappointment. ¡°I am leaving tonight, if you change your mind, when Tyn is at His highest peak. You can come to my room.¡±


    ¡°I am not sneaking into a boy¡¯s room.¡±


    ¡°Nadya, is not boring repeating every day in a forever monotonous cycle?¡±


    ¡°Monotonous,¡± I say. ¡°You say big words when you want to confuse me.¡±


    ¡°Don¡¯t you get tired of behind told what to do all the time?¡±


    ¡°Hardly.¡±


    ¡°Yes, well, having it good doesn¡¯t mean you can¡¯t want better.¡±


    ¡°I think maybe you are a spoiled prince.¡±


    This isn¡¯t a fight but I can¡¯t help but feel something a little frustrating bubbling up within me that I cannot explain. Why can he just not understand? I am no young girl in distress that needs a huge adventure to change her life. I do not need romantic fantasies of something more to come true.


    I want to ask him what it was he wanted to tell me at the Feast, but it feels inappropriate now. I know he is actively thinking about it, if he¡¯s thinking about the book in Mecraentos, but if he hasn¡¯t told me yet, he clearly does not want to.


    ¡°I should go,¡± I say. ¡°Missus Yarna is probably looking for me. I have to mop the ballroom for some meeting.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯ll come help.¡±


    ¡°Kaki¨C¡±


    ¡°Oh, Nadya. You know you can¡¯t stop me from being good.¡±


    ***


    I find myself standing in front of the chambers of Lightened Roe, the necklace dangling from my fingertips. She is in the Iya wing. This is the wing for the near perfects, the about-to-be completely pure and, hopefully, cured of the plague, ready to ascend into Enlightenedhood. The one percent. Her chamber door is similar to Kaki¡¯s, but it has been commissioned to have a few elaborate carvings of a wind pipe and a lyre and music notes engraved to the top. I study it. I¡¯ve seen the door many times before, but I have never had the courage to examine it, to wonder what music may hide behind it.


    I raise my fist, lower it, then raise it again.


    Closing my eyes as though that will change the outcome, I knock. Three times.


    The sound reverberates through the hallway, traveling up the stone poles and through the soles of my feet. I shiver.


    I give Lightened Roe a total of twenty counts to answer before I run off and leave the necklace at her doorstep, hoping she thinks this is a prank. I¡¯m at fifteen when the door swings open.


    It seems I have woken her up from a nap. She wears a thin nightgown, her hair tied up messily, her eyes wary and drowsy. I register the fact that she is at a third of a leg taller than me. As if I couldn¡¯t feel any smaller.


    ¡°Lightened,¡± I say. ¡°I¡­ hello.¡±


    I curtsy.


    ¡°Hello,¡± she says, an easy smile coming over her face.


    ¡°Um.¡± I fish the necklace out of my pocket. ¡°You left this at the Feast, Lightened. On the table. The right one. I wanted to return it to you so that it wouldn¡¯t get lost or anything.¡±


    I hand out the necklace as though it is plague-ridden.


    ¡°Thank you,¡± Lightened Roe says. ¡°You¡¯re Lightened Yoria¡¯s personal servant, aren¡¯t you?¡±


    I flush. ¡°Yes. I am.¡± Will my name forever be attached to his?


    ¡°Well, thank you,¡± she says, not asking for my name the way Kaki did when we were first inroduced. ¡°Good evening.¡±


    ¡°Good evening.¡±


    I linger. Her smile wavers. ¡°Is there anything else?¡±


    ¡°Yes. No. Yes,¡± I say. What are you doing, Nadya? Shut up. ¡°I just wanted to say that you are an amazing musician, Lightened. I hear you play at the Feast or in the courtyard sometimes and¡­ it¡¯s wonderful. That¡¯s all.¡±


    Her laugh is musical too. ¡°Thank you. What was your name again?¡±


    ¡°Nadya,¡± I respond.


    ¡°Nadya,¡± she says. ¡°Well, Lightened Yoria is lucky to have someone as sweet as you at his beckoning.¡±


    ¡°I doubt he would agree.¡± But I smile to let her know I¡¯m joking.


    ¡°Well, have a nice evening, Nadya,¡± she says. ¡°Ask Lightened Yoria to let you listen in on my recitals some time. It would be nice to have an appreciating audience.¡±


    ¡°Your audience doesn¡¯t?¡±


    ¡°They do. But that audience is mostly made of my tutors and the other girls who believe they have a better ear than they do.¡± She winks. ¡°But do not tell them that.¡±


    ¡°I won¡¯t,¡± I say. ¡°And I¡¯ll ask K¡ªLightened Bakiyoria. That would be lovely.¡±


    She closes the door without a proper pardon.


    I twiddle with the edge of my dress the rest of the walk down the esteemed hallway, trying to get my heart to slow.


    The hallway breaks out into small enclaves that open out as balconies on this wing, unlike the thin windows of the Tyn wing. For people living in such prestige, you want it to feel as open as possible. The enclaves serve to protect the halls against harsh bouts of rain and wind.


    I stumble into the nearest one. Below me is the main courtyard, where I see barrels rolling and carts being pulled and high-class men and women wandering with scholarly books or fancy dresses. To the left of it all, I see the Kirill and Gerasim Temples, where I pray in the mornings before starting my duties for the day. The reddish sky makes the green turrets stand out even brighter, a light to guide and illuminate us all. I watch the people below me for a few seconds before my eyes are drawn upwards, along the Fortress walls.


    Missus Yarna says that the Fortress was the first building to ever be built in Mecraentos after a vision was sent to our founder, Mecraen, telling her that we needed a safe haven against raging storms that would soon come about. Kaki says this is impossible, that there¡¯s no way we could have gone from scavengers to beautiful architects in the span of a single night. I try to tell him that these stories are paraphrased and that he should not be so insulting of other¡¯s beliefs. Sometimes he listens and shuts his mouth, sometimes he laughs.


    The Fortress is impenetrable. It is the capital of arts. It served as the best military barracks any kingdom has ever seen. It is an epitome of the best education. It is a place worthy only for the most Pure, the highest of classes.


    My eyes follow the stone walls, perfectly imperfect, aged and weathered yet still as strong as they had been on day one, growing higher and higher and higher¡­ it has always seemed limitless to me.


    I channel my gift of speed, let the plague run through my veins, as I run up the stairs of the turret, climbing floor after floor without tiring. Hundreds and hundreds of stairs without even breaking a sweat.


    I hope to see something beautiful over the wall. Perhaps mountains. I have always liked the idea of mountains.


    But then my knee gives out on a random step. I gasp and hold back a scream as I topple forward, waves of pain coursing through me. I tumble, nearly breaking my nose, and lay there in a shameful heap. I squeeze my eyes shut and try not to envision the day that the plague takes my leg entirely, and I am rendered physically useless, like Missus Yarna and her legs.


    I rest for a few moments, letting my knee settle. Then I start the climb again, albeit much slower.


    When I venture onto one of the highest balconies in the wing, taking tentative steps, the stones walls covered in webs and dust and dirt blown in from the storm, it takes a second for my brain to process what I see.


    I am probably thousands of legs above the ground, at the very top floor of the Iya wing. I have never been so high up before, never dared to venture far from the comfortable courtyard without Kaki at my side. I don¡¯t know why I dare do so now, only that staring down at a courtyard three times smaller than it usually is sends a pit rocking through my stomach. I gulp, trying to locate the familiar people that indicate signs of life. They are hardly specs.


    I let my gaze travel up, above the wall, searching for those mountains.


    They are not there.


    Instead, I see a City of gray.


    The red sky hums above, the suns being gradually covered by dark clouds rolling in. The clouds are almost a veil, trying to hide the dilapidated buildings stacked onto each other, over and over and without much precision, tilting in different directions, plague-ridden trees and roots and thorny vines climbing atop them, keeping them both sturdy and dangerously veinish. Even from afar, I can see blankets and rugs nailed to the front of the homes, flying freely. Or maybe they are just barely hanging on.


    There is almost no light shining from within, as there are with our shroom lamps. I cannot hear anything over the wind, but I imagine with each gust that comes about, a creakkk comes through the city as the rotting wood and wilting homes oscillate left and right. It is a City that was forced to be impacted, nothing like the great sprawling Fortress. It is a City that makes my nose scrunch up in disgust.


    The clouds are Kirill¡¯s way of warning us to take shelter, that He is hiding. They are often accompanied by a storm, but not always. Often, the clouds come about when a Father dies a non-plague related death. Or it can mean a factory is just collapsed due to a mass suicide of its workers, indicating to the nobles to hold an emergency meeting to fix the issue.


    Kaki always says to never stop asking why, or how. I look out and I wonder how those mangled homes could ever survive the coming storm without enclaves or stone roofs to protect them. I wonder if they have musicians like Lightened Roe to battle against the roar of Gerasim¡¯s clapping, striking lights.


    How far does Kaki trek past these walls? How could he ever think a City like that is fit for him?

 Ash and Stone VII - Asaio

    ASAIO


    Asher gazes into the warehouse, eyes wide. ¡°Wow.¡±


    ¡°Yeah. We got that effect on people,¡± I say. ¡°Jawdroppin. Beautiful. Gorgeous. Uh¨Cother words that mean the same thing. Shut your mouth, Flynn. I don¡¯t need no comprehensive list right now. There¡¯s so much to show you. Got a buncha different knick knacks, fancy clothes we stole¨Coh! The ladders are¨C¡±


    ¡°Do not go spoil him,¡± Ellie-Darlin says. ¡°He has to find out himself.¡±


    ¡°Guess it ain¡¯t very secret if I tell you,¡± I admit.


    ¡°Let¡¯s go,¡± Seht says.


    I remember what Asher said bout not wantin to meet everyone at once. Caution is good. ¡°You don¡¯t gotta,¡± I assure him. ¡°You can wait till everyone leaves and the place is almost empty cause that usually happens after everyone¡¯s eaten and such, or we can go hand around somewhere else or somethin. But we gotta check in with Vernon and Vip first and tell em Michie¡¯s safe and we got food and you¡¯re here and¨C¡±


    ¡°Slow down, Asaio,¡± Seht says.


    ¡°Talkin fast means your brain¡¯s workin good.¡±


    ¡°What does that even mean?¡±


    ¡°See, my brain¡¯s faster than yours.¡±


    ¡°Oh, Suns,¡± he mutters.


    ¡°He¡¯s slow,¡± I whisper extra-loudly to Asher.


    ¡°You can wait up here with me,¡± Flynn offers. ¡°If someone takes the bag and Nep and Pen so they can rest.¡± Ellie-Darlin does, the huge snakes slitherin around her arms, still legs longer than her, and the bag of vegetables slung over her right shoulder.


    ¡°You aren¡¯t going with them?¡± Asher asks.


    ¡°No,¡± Flynn says, blushin. ¡°I don¡¯t like so many people being around either.¡± I pat him reassuringly on the back.


    Asher nods. ¡°Okay. I¡¯ll wait.¡±


    ¡°Kim and Mallo are already climbing up to take over for Lahla and Ana,¡± Seht says. ¡°So you two might want to find some place quieter.¡±


    Flynn smiles. ¡°I know the perfect spot.¡±


    We call the place he¡¯s referrin to as ¡®Flynn¡¯s Hollow.¡¯ It¡¯s a nook at the very top of an overwrought tree that he spent Moon after Moon carvin out, so that it was smooth and squarish, like a room. He spent over a cycle hollowin that thing with nothin but a thin scalpel that he¡¯d made of some beat up factory thing that I don¡¯t know the name of. I could¡¯ve sped up the process with my whisperin but we were all fightin at the time and helpin Flynn didn¡¯t seem like a valiant effort in the moment.


    The rest of us climb through the trap doors, where multiple vines attached to the end let us slide down into our home sweet home.


    ***


    The Garnets swarm us like we¡¯ve been gone twenty cycles. It¡¯s not cause they particularly love us¨Cthey do, just most ain¡¯t the ones to show it like that, less you¡¯re Vernon or Krassy, well, me. Nah, they¡¯re comin for the vegetables, clawin at them like savage, plague-ridden beasts. Twelve kids at once, rangin from the ages ten to seventeen, probably. Thin, malnourished faces and wide, smart eyes. Nearly as smart as some of them tongues. Oh Krassy, who¡¯s my age, bout thirteen or somethin, her tongue¡¯s sharper than Nep and Pen¡¯s teeth. We call her Crass because of her lack of class.


    ¡°Aye, settle down, settle down!¡± calls Vernon, pushin through the masses. ¡°They just got here!¡±


    Vernon¡¯s our unofficial leader. He¡¯s one of the oldest and he even looks it. Tall, with a bit of muscle. There¡¯s more plague over his body than most of us; his skin¡¯s stretchin itself to death, pale and placid, a thin web to cover the black veins and blackenin bone beneath it, but he takes his sickness in pride. When he¡¯s here at the warehouse, he¡¯s shirtless most of the time, that¡¯s how comfortable he is, even though it looks like he¡¯s gonna be blown away with a single gust of wind. He keeps his hair long as can be and tied into braids like Flynn, but the way he wears it makes it seem like he¡¯s tryin to make his presence bigger, not tryin to hide behind the mop of hair like Flynn.


    ¡°I rather like the attention,¡± I say, handin a red lookin vegetable to Vernon¡¯s opposite: thick-boned Mustletop. ¡°Mustle! Come ¡®ere, you.¡± I plant a kiss on his forehead. He¡¯s more interested in the vegetable than my love for him.


    Pushin through the legs of the crowd pops a sweet, familiar face. Hardly reachin my waist comes the youngest of our group, the doll to us all. The others make room for her where they wouldn¡¯t make room for anyone else.


    With a thick head of black hiair and eyes bright as the Suns themselves is Uyala, only six or seven cycles young. Besides me and Vernon, she¡¯s one of the only that can call herself a Garnet through-and-through. Born and raised right here, with only us to call family. Seht says that she should be taller for her age, that she¡¯s bout the size of someone three or four cycles, but what¡¯s new?


    ¡°Uyala!¡± Seht cries, reachin out to grab the little girl and hoise her onto his hip. ¡°Hi, brightness.¡±


    Ellie-Darlin and I exchange glances before gigglin. It¡¯s adorable seein Seht all motherly.


    Uyala and Seht bonded right away, since she also took a likin to Mono Man, even though Mono-Man had no idea how to deal with a baby properly and that¡¯s why Uyala walks funny, like an old man, and she can¡¯t really talk right. Ellie-Darlin¡¯s the mostm experienced with small children, since she grew up at the Sanctuary in Tanasora, so she¡¯s been tryin to fix Uyala¡¯s speech and get her to eat more since her arrival two cycles ago.


    ¡°No Flynn?¡± Crimson asks. He¡¯s short and stubby and only got one eye. Don¡¯t know how he lost it. We never ask cause he gets pissy when we do.


    ¡°Nah,¡± I say. ¡°Got Nep and Pen though.¡±


    The satisfactory smirk on Crimson¡¯s face irritates me.


    We Garnets will always stick together. Bonded cause we got no one else. Cause we all came from brutal parts of the world that don¡¯t want us. Cause you only live once and we ain¡¯t gonna live that life sick and cryin cause life didn¡¯t do us good. Life will never do you good. You gotta do yourself good cause life don¡¯t owe us a damn thing.


    Despite all that, there are tensions and cliques within the group. Certain Garnets are closer to others, like me and Ellie-Darlin and Seht and Flynn. And some can¡¯t get over the past. Flynn might¡¯ve made some mistakes but he¡¯s changed and it bugs me that a bunch of the Garnets don¡¯t see that. We get picked on enough, we don¡¯t need to pick on each other.


    Ellie-Darlin drops Nep and Pen to the ground, lettin them slither around Crimson¡¯s feet just enough to be a bother.


    ¡°Who were y¡¯all talkin to up there?¡± Vernon says, gesturin towards the trapdoors. ¡°Guys! Place the vegetables in the food bin. You know the rules. Don¡¯t go sneakin nothin around when we can¡¯t see you.¡±


    There are many sighs, but they do as they are told, dropping the items into the badly-weaved basket in the corner of the warehouse. The rule is that if you¡¯re the one that brought the goods, you get to choose how to distribute them. Almost always it¡¯s distributed fairly, but fairly depends on the person. If someone¡¯s more sick than someone else, or they¡¯re a girl and they¡¯re bleedin, or if they¡¯re younger and gotta eat more, or if someone¡¯s been beaten up and bruised lately, it¡¯s expected that they get to be fed more, so long as they¡¯re contributin and treatin everyone well.


    We¡¯re tryin not to be like our hoity-toity Industry, tellin us to split rations that are never as equal as they pretend, but you got to be on the bottom rung to know that. Tyn, they call us.


    Even amongst us Garnets, there are petty arguments about who gets what and why, and we love and trust and actually care for each other. There¡¯s no way them Industry workers with them long lines on Market Street actually care about keepin us fed and ¡®fairly compensated.¡¯ I hardly understand the industry and Purity and such, but Isaela¡¯s real passionate about its intricacies and argues so in private. She knows better than to do so in public.


    ¡°His name¡¯s Asher and he¡¯s Garnet potential, trust me,¡± I say. We explain what happened wtih Michie.


    Vernon nods. ¡°I trust you. We¡¯ll meet him when he¡¯s ready.¡±


    Then he reaches over and embraces me. he does the same with Ellie-Darlin, plantin kisses on our foreheads. A warmth runs through me. It always does when I¡¯m in this buildin, even though it¡¯s messy and dirty and smells like sweaty boys half the time, I love it.


    ¡°I¡¯m glad y¡¯all are back,¡± he says. ¡°And glad savin Michie was worth it. Ana and Lahla should be back soon from their shift.¡±


    Now Michie, our first ¡®establishment¡¯, will be our first Coin Man. Doin illegal business with illegal kids. Miner¡¯s Keep, Yaselle¡¯s Bugs, Five Pitters¨Call of them, they got a few Coin Men, mostly smugglers, but a lot of them don¡¯t last too long before bein hit by the bug lickers. But if you¡¯re a bigshot like the Rubies or the Lime Men, you know how to keep your Coin Men alive. You know how to double your rations. You know how to do deal with the lickers to keep them off your back when you¡¯re in the business of brothels and intoxicatin flowers and plague mining. Plague minin¨Cdiggin the plague directly outta the ground, hacked right outta the trees.


    Dangerous as can be, with more people dyin as more people desperately get into the business. In theory, the veins should be turned into medicine. The black growths and unnatural spikes in the ground could be grounded in a specific way to be turned into an elixir. Not the same sort the Lime Men use, with their magicla herbs and herbalism, but a medicin that makes you slowly feel better till it kills you even more brutally than the plague would have. But the plague-ridden roots alleviate the sufferin for just long enough to be worth it, for people just on the brink of insanity. Or if you¡¯re real hungry, it can sustain you for a while.


    Thing is, the tourists and high-brow Fortress folk that come round don¡¯t see these things. They don¡¯t see the good either. They don¡¯t see the play-places kids make in the scrapyards or hear the real sweet drummins on the streets, or the lonesome singer tryin to escape factory life with her words.


    ¡°I want to have a talk with all of you before y¡¯all run off,¡± Vernon says. ¡°So gather round.¡±


    At that moment, clamborin down are Lahla and Ana.


    Seht, who is combin through Uyala¡¯s thick, curly hair, says, ¡°Should we grab Flynn?¡±


    ¡°You can relay this to him,¡± Vernon says. ¡°Let him entertain the shy newcomer.¡±


    A few laughs come about.


    I know Vernon¡¯s good with Flynn, but I also know that if it¡¯d been me up in Flynn¡¯s Hollow he¡¯d probably send Ellie-Darlin after me.


    Genavieve and Mustletop hand us bowls of blood branch stew. They¡¯re the resident cooks. Well, Genavieve¡¯s the resident cook and Mustletop tries to be and fails, presentin Genavieve the daily challenge of tryin to salvage whatever mess he¡¯s made.


    We ain¡¯t the sort to sit around so as position ourselves within hearin range. Some Garnets are hangin off the ladders, lettin all the blood rush to their heads, someon the floor, some sprawled on each other¡¯s laps or backs.


    This narrative has been purloined without the author''s approval. Report any appearances on Amazon.


    ¡°Alright,¡± Vernon says. ¡°Most of y¡¯all know this already, but for you guys¡±¨Che glances directly at our group¨C¡°you need a recap. While y¡¯all were out savin Michie from the Lime Men, we got word that there was a rumble between some folk from Yaselle¡¯s and the Pitters¡¯. Got into it over control of the docks. The seventh dock, of course.¡±


    Of all the docks at Mecraentos Harbor, the seventh is the smallest. The others are either completely under bug licker authority or Ruby territory, who¡¯re the only real gang in Mecraentos, the only ones that are gainin enough notoriety and power for the bug lickers and nobles to start seein them as a problem. Give them a few cycles, Vernon says, and the Rubies will make their way into the Fortress, the big scary capital that all them nobles hide in.


    ¡°The lickers intervened, as they do,¡± Vernon continues, ¡°but the Bugs managed some sorta deal with the lickers. Not quite sure what it is, but it was made oddly quick and swift. Word is that it¡¯s cause the Bugs are climbin up the ladder, tryin to position themselves in a way to merge with the Rubies. Weird, considerin Yaselle¡¯s reputation but, anyways, that pissed off the Pitters.¡±


    ¡°Get to it!¡± Kim hollars with a laugh. He¡¯s one of the youngest, seven or so, and he¡¯s got absolutely no social awareness at all. He could walk into a room with eight muskets blazin and he wouldn¡¯t do a thing. We found him half-dead in a sewer a couple peakings ago. He¡¯d tried to kill himself or someone tried to kill him¨Ceither way, it was brutal.


    ¡°Was goin to, kid,¡± Vernon says. ¡°Ana, Vip? You wanna take over?¡±


    Ananiva and Vip are two of the original Garnets, along with Vernon and I. The four of us are the only remnants of the ¡®origina¡¯ group, the group that broke off of Vernon¡¯s family crime trade, passin from Vernon¡¯s father to Seran, his dead brother, and then to him, back before we were really a gang and more just employees and entertainment for his family¡¯s gamblin hub. Loads of games, we played back then. My mask is from those days, back when I was Piebald, the two-eyed mime and one of the greatest bringers of coin¨Cno tourist can resist a cute actor.


    Ana steps forward. It was she that recruited me off the streets, so I wouldn¡¯t be botherin Isaela and Sans no more. She¡¯s the closest thing to an older sister I¡¯ve got, but we ain¡¯t as close as we used to be, since she¡¯s spendin less and less time with the Garnets, tryin to see all she can as the plague slowly knits her bones together. Vip and I ain¡¯t that close either, since he was always less about tryin to follow in Seran¡¯s footsteps and more about tryin to get us all to move in legally with stable families. Never worked cause none of us wanted to go back to them orphan homes so he gave in to helpin provide for us. He got a job in a factory, till he realized just how dangerous factory work is and that no one really gave a damn bout his wellbein there, not the same way we do.


    ¡°Vip and I have been on watch at Punnet on and off for the last week or so,¡± Ana says. ¡°Y¡¯all know Mister Kamon?¡±


    Mister Kamon lives in one of the three houses on Punnet Street. Not a dingy apartment but a real, nice single-story home, only slightly beat to the ground. He¡¯s richer, Purer¨Cstamped clean with approval by the Soul checkers for never missin his weekly appointments, and relatively new to the neighborhood.


    ¡°Well, he came to Vip and I right after the harbor scuffle happened, proposin this: while Yaselle¡¯s group and the Five Pitters are goin at it like all Suns, we come and intercept a shipment. He hasn¡¯t specified what shipment, he hasn¡¯t specified when it comes. He hasn¡¯t told us anythin until we agree,¡± Ana says.


    ¡°What?¡± Seht says. ¡°What sort of deal is that?¡±


    ¡°A risky one,¡± Vernon says. ¡°We don¡¯t have to agree right now. He said that we just have to discuss it amongst ourselves and then a group of us will go meet with him about the peculiars.¡±


    ¡°What does he want with a bunch of street rats?¡± Seht says. ¡°This feels like a trap.¡±


    I have to agree.


    We ain¡¯t ever done a job for someone else before. Michie was one of our own. If one of our own gets into a rumble, we plan elaborately to save them. If one of our own gets caught for a petty robbery or con and we got to save their hind, we do. If one of our own is sick and needs a particular sort of medicine or if the plague¡¯s got them rough and they want to do somethin specific before they meet the Suns, we¡¯ll break into what we can, con who we can, fight who we can, to provide that for them. Like, when Mono Man was dyin, we stole eight dozen carriage wheels just cause he asked. Most of the time, we lay-low, though.


    But, considerin how much focus we¡¯ve put into Punnet Street, makin sure they know us and that we occasionally reap the beenfits of their businesses¨Clike Michie¡¯s crop or Dandelion¡¯s weavin business¨Cit makes sense that Kamon would take notice.


    ¡°Who would go discuss it with him?¡± Crimson asks.


    ¡°Vernon, Ana, and I,¡± Vip says, ¡°but only if the majority of y¡¯all are alright with it. Whatever the job may be, whether we agree or not, we agree as a whole.¡±


    A part of me frowns at the list of names. I get that it¡¯s because the three of them are all older, but I know it¡¯s more because they¡¯re all original Garnets. But wouldn¡¯t that include me too? I don¡¯t mind, though, cause I ain¡¯t too bright.


    ¡°How come only you three would discuss it?¡± Seht asks. ¡°Why don¡¯t we go and come bringing that man to somewhere where we can all judge if he¡¯s lying or not?¡±


    Vernon exchanges a glance with Vip. ¡°We can¡¯t expose everyone. If it¡¯s a trap and, worst-case, we¡¯re dead, then he only kills three of us.¡±


    ¡°Or we¡¯re better off with big numbers and we corner him so he doesn¡¯t going round and doing any of those tricks,¡± Seht says. ¡°What can he possibly offer us that we need?¡± Uyala awakens in his arms, mutterin, ¡°Hmm?¡± Seht shushes her, urgin her to go back to sleep.


    ¡°Uh¡ªa lot?¡± Crimson says. ¡°We¡¯re hardly surviving. Every day, we pray the lickers aren¡¯t gonna get us or someone ain¡¯t going to be shot in the street or¡ª¡±


    ¡°And how is some kind of rich man from Punnet Street supposed to help with that?¡± Seht snaps. Uyala groans and wraps her arms around her neck. ¡°Okay, okay. Hold on. I¡¯m going to go find her a blanket. Did she stay up all night?¡±


    ¡°Couldn¡¯t fall asleep without you,¡± Vernon notes.


    Seht glances at her with the most lovin gaze his sharp features can muster. He steps away from the rest of us, goin into the corner where we have to sectioned off ¡®rooms¡¯ for the sickly in case they need rest without the rest of us loomin over all the time. They¡¯re divided with blankets and wooden roots I grew into makeshift walls.


    ¡°I think we should just hear him out,¡± Vernon says. ¡°He noticed us for a reason.¡±


    Shimmy narrows his eyes. He¡¯s from the Minee, which is technically part of Mecraentos, but also such a horrible slum that most folk consider it its own entity. He never got an education, but he¡¯s observant and we all call him the smartest in our group, so we always listen when he¡¯s got somethin to say. ¡°Is that what this is, Vernon?¡±


    ¡°What do you mean?¡±


    Shimmy glances at Lahla, Vernon¡¯s lover.


    Lahla is everythin Vernon is not. She¡¯s taller than him, probably stronger than him, she don¡¯t stay in one place, she¡¯s quiet, she doesn¡¯t have the power to bring people together with just her words like Vernon does, and she¡¯s usually exceptionally more wary than he. She draws tattoos all over her body, goes to illegal artists and pays them double with coin she makes on her own time doin Sun knows what. No one knows where she came from, we can¡¯t identify her accent and everyone¡¯s too scared to ask her. We doubt even Vernon knows.


    ¡°No,¡± she says flatly. ¡°But Vernon wants this and I trust him. If he gets himself killed when meeting with Kamon, that¡¯s his own fault.¡±


    He leans over to kiss her on the cheek. ¡°You know I would never die in anyone¡¯s hands except yours.¡±


    She kisses him fully on the mouth, keepin it there for a full twenty or thirty seconds before breakin off, when Mustletop coughs awkwardly into his sleeve and Crass bursts out cacklin, callin them doxies. ¡°I love you too.¡±


    They¡¯re adorable.


    Shimmy taps his knee rhythmically as Seht makes his way back to the group, Uyala put to sleep. ¡°I don¡¯t know, Vernon. I don¡¯t think we are ready for that.¡±


    ¡°Will we ever be ready?¡± Vernon challenges. ¡°We have someone who is willin to give us a chance to prove ourselves, our worth as somethin more than street rats. He noticed us.¡±


    ¡°You said that twice,¡± Shimmy notes.


    ¡°What?¡±


    ¡°That he noticed us. This man coming in doesn¡¯t mean he¡¯s not going to be like¨Cwhat were their names again? I don¡¯t even know because of how useless they were to our functionality. Mono Man, right, Seht?¡± I wince for him. ¡°Christy. The Gem Lady. He¡¯s not going to be another one of them, and we don¡¯t need another one of them, some bullshit adult that needs us to give them a purpose. If validation is what you want from this job¨C¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s not,¡± Vernon says. ¡°I¡¯m hopin this man gives us status. This man¡¯s wealthy. If he¡¯s offerin a good price, we could finally have the funds to have somethin real again. We could maybe be the next Five Pitters, or Yaselle¡¯s Bugs. Or, okay fine. Shoot lower. We can turn Punnet Street into somethin more than it is. We could have somethin of our own, like the old gamblin den again.¡±


    We all have our own reasons for bein Garnets. Vernon and Seran¡¯s reasons have always been the same¡ªto foster kids that grew up in broken homes like theirs. That was the real purpose of the gamblin den.


    But the way Vernon¡¯s glarin at Shimmy makes me doubt that it¡¯s just that, for a second. I don¡¯t really care if it is, I¡¯d like the notoriety too.


    It¡¯s hard not to watch the red-necked Rubies and not want that power. That¡¯s their brand. Gettin red tats all over them necks. They look like they¡¯re of real good Pure stuff, they¡¯re so rich. And they have what¡¯s nearly their own branch of authorities, of lickers. It¡¯s only ¡®nearly¡¯ cause they got to pay the lickers and the lickers can stop them at any time, like with what happened at the Mushroom Dam. Sixty three Rubies dead at the ends of snake-skin vests and muskets cause their homes were gettin a little too fancy, lookin a little too rich, and connin just a few too many tourists. If we could be like that, Flynn and Ellie-Darlin could get a real education. They¡¯d be top scholars, I¡¯d bet. Real, real smart. Seht would probably start his own league of brawlers. He loves watchin the sport in the Cages. Uyala could walk safely down the streets, grow up like a rich girl, without rough-housin, and Seht would watch damn proud. He¡¯d want that too, to spoil Uyala like a princess.


    Less it¡¯s a trap, I remind myself.


    ¡°I¡¯d like a caretaker like the Gem Lady again,¡± Kim says softly.


    We all glance at him.


    ¡°What?¡± he says, utterly clueless. Mustletop just pats him comfortingly on the back.


    ¡°I think we should at least see the meeting through,¡± says Ana.


    ¡°Where will it be?¡± I ask, realizin that hasn¡¯t been revealed. ¡°At Kamon¡¯s home?¡±


    ¡°Yes,¡± Vip says, Vernon noddin along with him.


    Crimson whistles. ¡°You better pocket something.¡±


    ¡°Oh we will,¡± Vernon says heartily. He squeezes Lahla¡¯s hand. ¡°I¡¯ll get you somethin real expensive, my jewel.¡±


    We vote. Most are in favor of Vernon, Vip, and Ana at least meetin wiht Kamon. Everyone except Shimmy, who says he knew he¡¯d be outvoted. The meetin is set for later today, so everyone wants to help the three dress in their Suns-Day best, clothes that had been stolen off of a few drunken tourists. I don¡¯t like wearin them, I prefer the cloak from Mono Man or pieces sewn by Sans. I do help Mustletop and Kim and Crass make a fool out of eldest with the worst clothing combinations imaginable. I leave before the fun really starts, though, when Genavieve and Ellie-Darlin pull out mineral makeup dyes, to check on Flynn and Asher.


    ***


    A light rain¡¯s startin to pour. I glance up at the dark red sky as white drops race to bruise my skin. I leap over rooftops and slide down infected vines, whistlin to myself. I find the base of the tree that houses Flynn¡¯s Hollow and shimmy my way up, expandin my senses and lettin leaves and branches brush against my affectionately. This tree is probably over fifty legs high. You can see the whole City from up here.


    I reach the top and move into the hallowed part. There are still blood stains where Flynn¡¯d manically began to tear at the bark with his own fingernails, breakin them off. I wish I had been there for him in those days, but we don¡¯t live long enough to wallow in regret.


    Suddenly, an arrow whizzes past my head.


    I react just in time, lettin my grip on the bark free and fallin a few legs before whisperin and extendin a branch to catch my, effectively cuttin my forearms.


    ¡°What in the sweet world?¡± I call against the steadily growin winds.


    ¡°Sorry! Sorry!¡± Flynn says. ¡°Come up, Asaio!¡±


    Flynn¡¯s Hollow was not always as comfortable as it seems now. Now, the hollowed-out wood is covered with carved statues and a rare shroom lamp and bunch of Flynn¡¯s prized possessions, like his braid bands and a weird, flat, comb-lookin thing that he¡¯s had since we met him. I don¡¯t know what it¡¯s for cause, whenever we ask, his cheeks go all red.


    Flynn stands in the back of the hollow, Asher¡¯s bow held wobbly in his right hand.


    ¡°I don¡¯t think you¡¯re left-eyed,¡± Asher observes.


    ¡°Left-eyed?¡±


    ¡°Yeah. If you¡¯re shooting, the way you shoot depends on whether or not you are left-eyed or right-eyed.¡±


    ¡°Not¡­ handed?¡±


    ¡°Well, yeah, sure, it¡¯s sort of the same thing.¡±


    I wave a hand, movin the branches at the entrance into a tight-knit web to better keep out the rain. The sound of the steady pour is like a rhythmic drummer¡¯s. ¡°You¡¯re teachin Flynn how to shoot?¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s not working very well,¡± Flynn says.


    ¡°Oh, you¡¯re fine,¡± Asher says, but he¡¯s starin behind me, at the entrance I made move. He blinks. ¡°Sorry. Asaio¡ªI know you said¡­ but that¡¯s not normal.¡±


    A cheeky grin comes across my face. ¡°May not be normal, but it¡¯s kinda cool, ain¡¯t it?¡±


    ¡°Yeah,¡± he says.


    I tell him and Flynn about Kamon and the meetin.


    ¡°Don¡¯t worry,¡± I tell Asher. ¡°If we end up doin the job, you don¡¯t got to be involved. We get to choose whether or not we do stuff like this, like how us here volunteered to help Michie even though Vip and Ana and the others could¡¯ve done it too. Once you go back to Punnet Street, we¡¯ll probably have you work with Michie about growin that crop and keepin us on good terms, you know? You can stay doin your own thing, most of the time.¡±


    Asher makes a face I can¡¯t read before coverin it up. I¡¯m about to ask if he would rather not do that when he speaks.


    ¡°Is there an¡­ initiation to be a Garnet?¡±


    ¡°What?¡± Flynn says.


    ¡°The Rubies,¡± Asher says, pointin to his neck. ¡°Or the Lime Men? They all have those black fingernails, did you notice? And I¡¯m sure they have them work a job so that they¡¯re official.¡±


    ¡°Nah,¡± I say. ¡°You only got to steal from a noble to be one of us. Kiddin, kiddin. That only happened once. We don¡¯t do anythin like that. We¡¯re chill. You¡¯re a Garnet if we can rely on you.¡±


    ¡°What is it you Garnets do if jobs like the one Kamon¡¯s asking are rare?¡± Asher asks.


    ¡°Petty crime, sometimes. Avoidin the bug lickers. Pranks. Uh¨Cwhat else? I don¡¯t know, games? Avoidin Mothers from the orphanges, they can get real feisty. We¡¯ve been real focused on tryin to protect Punnet Street, so we¡¯ve been doin a bunch of stuff related to that. Keepin creepy men away and root-sellers and all. We help, a few of us. Flynn and Seht and Ellie-Darlin and I, at least.¡±


    ¡°Help?¡±


    Flynn and I exchange a glance. ¡°Come on. We¡¯ll show you. It¡¯s been a while since we dropped by The Shaver anyways. Unless you want to wait till the warehouse has cleared out so you can get a tour of the place?¡± I add, rememberin the reason why he followed us anyway, to investigate the Garnets, see if we are a suitable company.


    ¡°No,¡± Asher says. ¡°I like to keep busy. I don¡¯t want to wait and sit around.¡±


    ¡°I like you so much already.¡±

 Ash and Stone VIIIF - Nadya

    NADYA


    I nearly sneak into Kaki¡¯s room when the Suns fall into oblivion and the Moons rise. I am so tempted to let him take me away from these giant walls and into the gray City, where it seems like the streets would suffocate me.


    I even get dressed, putting on the better of my two frocks¨Cless than the three of a typical servant girl because I do not want to be the indulgent common Ospry¨Cand tying my hair into a tight bun. I even sneak past the sleeping bodies of Ponnie and Chi-Chi, whom I share a chamber with and manage to open the front door without either waking.


    Then I shut it and turn back inside, glancing at my unmade bed, my heart hammering. I don¡¯t understand what makes those books Kaki¡¯s purchasing in the City so valuable. He is directly feeding into an underground economy, explicitly against the wishes of the Suns, who limit reading to be for those of certain Purity. And while Kaki is, those he is buying from are not, making him as indulgent as they. Sometimes I think I love Kaki for his predictability. Sometimes I don¡¯t understand him at all.


    If Missus Yarna were to find out I were sneaking around with him, she would have a fit.


    She often tells me I am indulging myself with him, letting our friendship fester beyond what is reasonable. She thinks that I am betraying my promise of scarcity as an Ospry girl by simply existing around him, as though I want something more from him than he should be offering.


    I suppose, if I were to sneak around with him, she would be right.


    The storm grew worse in the night. I know there are Fathers and Mothers in the Temples, praying for it to go away as Rain-Keepers, servants exclusively here to deal with the changing weather, frantically ensure that all carts and carriages and shipments and materialistic things like fancy tables and candles are locked up and unaffected. The Rain-Keepers will ensure that doors are double-locked so they don¡¯t fly open, that the gutters keep from flooding, that all lamps are put away so they do not shatter and leave glow-shroom residue all over the courtyard.


    I lay back, wondering if Kaki ventured out at all or if he turned away too at the sight of the rain. It¡¯s well known that the warning rains of Kirill and Gerasim can kill a man if they are angry enough.


    It¡¯s time like these where I wonder about the rumors that circle around Kaki, guiltily. Maybe he does not see these rains as a threat because he knows that, somewhere deep down, they were caused by him, brought about by a simmering temper even he is not aware of on the surface. Or maybe it is true that, when he is alone on a rainy street, the Suns specifically carve a section of the rain to keep from precipitating on him, for Gerasim and Kirill must keep the Savior of the Plague alive. Paths paved for him that the rest of us cannot walk. Or perhaps he is just a reckless boy.


    ***


    The storm has ended by morning, but the entire Fortress is wet and dewey.


    I was born into the Ospry class, and sometimes I am glad for it because of vanity¡¯s sake. The Temple of Ospry is the shape of a clutched hand, the bones of the fingers and palm making up its balconies. It is not a shimmering emerald but a stone face, yet it is carved the most elaborately of the Moons. This is not to be awed at, however, for it demonstrates the excessively of the Ospry Moon, the brightest Moon. The carvings all around the Temple clash with each other. So many depictions that one cannot tell what it is depicting.


    I climb onto the Fourth Balcony, my usual balcony, and kneel. Prayers of Redemption to one¡¯s own patron are different from Prayers of Redemtion to the Suns. They are sincere, long ramblings of what you appreciate and value, why, and what you will do to better yourself in the eyes of your Moon. Sometimes there are physical sacrifices, but not for Ospry, as we are discouraged of owning many of anything. Our current possessions must be necessities. That itself is sacrifice enough for Ospry.


    At the end of it, I whisper, ¡°Please look over Kaki. Make sure he is safe. Please, let him find the answers he is looking for in those wordless books. Let his searching be prosperous and forgive him for indulging those are are fractured.¡±


    I hear a clattering come from behind me. I look over.


    Miss Gennadi approaches, carrying the child I saw on her back during the Feast. She is much more put together than she was during the Feast or when we¡¯d found her crying in the servant¡¯s corridor. Unlike herself, the child is dark-skinned and dark-haired and must only be around three or four cycles. He is strapped onto her back with a tightly wrapped vine.


    ¡°May I sit here? The other balconies are full,¡± she says.


    ¡°Of course.¡± I move to give her some room.


    She whispers her prayers beneath her breath. The child wails. I try to ignore it, but he grows louder and louder.


    ¡°I¡¯m sorry about him,¡± Miss Gennadi whispers, bringing the child to her chest and brushing his nose with her finger to calm him.


    ¡°It¡¯s alright,¡± I say. I want to ask who this child is, if he is her son, but I keep my mouth shut to let her focus on Redemption.


    It is rude but not the end of the world if you hear another woman¡¯s prayer. I try to tune Miss Gennadi out, but I hear her mutter, ¡°¡­and bless Iolanda for the¡­.¡±


    The child squirms in her grip. ¡°Vronor,¡± she hisses. ¡°Vronor, stop it. Vronor. I am so sorry, Nadya.¡±


    I assure her it¡¯s alright and offer to hold the child. I¡¯m not much with children but she deserves prayer without distraction. I¡¯ve finished speaking to the Moon anyway. She agrees and I take Vronor into my arms, brushing back his thick head of hair. If he is her son, he looks nothing like her.


    When she is done, together we step down and make our way to the Temple of Kirill, Vronor still in my arms, the highest Sun and the first Enlightened Son.


    Vronor immediately quiets himself.


    Kirill¡¯s Temple is magnificent, to say the least. The Fortress was built around it. It is hundreds of legs tall. not as tall as the Fortress itself, but close and carved to resemble a crowned ribcage. Each ¡®bone¡¯ swarms upwards into a turret, where different balconies can be used for prayer, along with a swirling staircase. The building is covered elaborately in emerald, giving it its iconic contrasting hue against the red sky. A troupe of Storytellers appointed by the Fathers of Kirill known as the Bright Men say that the Temple was not always adorned so luxuriously, that it was built first in stone, like the rest of the Fortress. But Kirill Himself was so flattered at the symbol of our devotion to Him that He transformed it.


    It is built so that the ¡®bones¡¯ let in only very specific patterns of Sunlight, to reflect the dance of Kirill. Being the Highest Sun and the Enlightened Son, Kirill appeared the most God-like, yet had the most love for humanity¡¯s whims, like dancing. The patterns of the shadows change throughout the day, until they are filtered out by the Moons, where an inverse image is created. I could stay and watch the changing light patterns forever.


    The other nine Temples came after Kirill¡¯s as, long before the plague, long before the Sixty Seven Cycle War that left us in a desolation, the people of Mecraentos only worshipped Kirill, believing Him to be our only guide to Purity. But then He brought about a ravaging storm¨Ca frequent subject of our Storytellers¨Cto remind our ancestors that they may be punished by ignoring the other deities that gave them life. We did not listen then.


    Some theorize that the plague was a second bout of punishment, then the War¨CKirill cursed us to become an angry peoples; where country turned on country; kingdom on kingdom; city on city; neighbor on neighbor. It was Enlightened Everleigh who ended the War, earning her Enlightenment.


    We kneel on the First Balcony of the Temple of Kirill and begin to utter a Prayer of Redemption for Kirill. Prayers of Kirill often involve some sort of dancing or musicality. For this one, I involve a series of snaps that are supposed to be used when one is in conflict with oneself.


    Vronor tries to imitate me, and I softly tell him of the blessings of Kirill. ¡°The reason why you went so quiet,¡± I whisper. ¡°You felt the power of the Sun, didn¡¯t you? You feel His presence. Here, sit on my lap. You can pray with me.¡±


    Miss Gennadi smiles gratefully at me.


    But, before I can get started, the light patterns filtered in through the ribs of the Temple shift, moving to the right, so the left edges of the shadows are elongated. An unnatural warmth comes through the air. Everyone¡¯s attention is broken. The transition of Kirill¡¯s dances do not happen this quickly. A sharp ray tilts itself toward my face. I have to raise a hand to shield myself.


    A woman at the balcony across from mine reaches for the shifting Sunlight. ¡°Kirill? Kirill?¡± she calls.


    At that moment, stepping into the Temple, wearing a traditional dress of mourning in silver and white is Enlightened Everleigh. Her hair is done in an extremely complex series of braids wrapped around her forehead. She looks like a goddess. My eyes only linger on her for a moment, for Kaki trails beside her, dressed up as well. His hair is slicked back and he wears formal mourning attire I¡¯ve never seen him don¨Csilver as well, with thick pads on the shoulders. His eyes are flat, nearly lifeless.


    Kaki prays occasionally, but he never visits the Temples.


    Something is wrong. I urge for him to make eye contact with me, but he just stops, right below our balcony, so I can only see the top of his and Enlightened Everleigh¡¯s head.


    Miss Gennadi¡¯s breath hitches.


    ¡°Miss Gennadi?¡± I say with a frown. ¡°Are you alright?¡±


    Her face isn¡¯t ashen, exactly, but she¡¯s taken Vronor and grips him ferociously. ¡°Yes, sweetheart,¡± she tells me, planting a kiss on Vronor¡¯s forehead. If I¡¯d not seen her face, I¡¯d believe her. ¡°I¡¯m more than alright.¡±


    Is today some sort of holiday I forgot about? Was I supposed to get Kaki ready this morning?


    I realize it was Enlightened Everleigh direct the rays of Kirill¡¯s Sunlight, forming a geometric pattern on the Temple floor. ¡°Bakiyoria. Sit here.¡±


    Kaki doesn¡¯t budge. ¡°I really don¡¯t want to do this, Auntie.¡±


    A man on the First Balcony cries, ¡°What is the Cursed Child doing here?¡± Upon seeing Kaki¡¯s glare and hearing the protests around him, he adds, ¡°I¡¯m sorry, I¡¯m sorry. I mean no disrespect, truly.¡±


    ¡°Truly,¡± Kaki repeats. Clearly, he means some. He turns to Enlightened Everleigh. ¡°Please, Auntie, I really don¡¯t. The dream meant nothing, I promise. I don¡¯t understand why you¡¯re so¨C¡±


    ¡°Just try,¡± Enlightened Everleigh encourages Kaki. ¡°There is no harm, Bakiyoria. Please? I must know if this is how it works.¡±


    ¡°Stop saying that,¡± Kaki says, but he sits down in the illuminated section of the TEmple.


    Enlightened Everleigh smiles and waves her hands. ¡°Thank you, Baki.¡± I cringe at the name.


    It looks like a summoning ritual. There are a few of those, but they are usually saved for mourning and are looked down upon by anyone who is above the Tyn class.


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    Us onlookers lean in close, wondering if this is the moment that Kaki finally ascends into Enlightenedhood, wondering if the prophecies are wrong, that there can be more than three Sun-children. I do not believe so, but I know the notion becomes more and more popular with each cycle that Kaki remains alive.


    The light swirls around him, as though she is physically pulling it from the air. The gold ribbonss shimmer around his Pure, non-plague-ridden skin, illuminating it. Gasps are sucked right out of our mouths. The sight is something more ethereal than we could have ever dreamed. Most of us have not seen Enlightened Everleigh use the powers which Kirill blessed her. Watching those patterns of light dance around Kaki, I feel something like a weight lifted from my chest. Vronor tries to leap off the balcony to grab for it, but Miss Gennadi holds him back.


    Kaki looks absolutely miserable.


    The ribbons grow brighter and brighter, turning from gold to a piercing white, enveloping his body. I¡¯m forced to turn away.


    When I do, I swear there are remnants of her power in my vision. Black dots that depict a man and a woman dancing against the Temple¡¯s walls, smiling upon me.


    Maybe they were my parents, maybe they were people Enlightened Everleigh knew, maybe they were no one. Slowly, it all simmers away.


    Miss Gennadi whispers, ¡°Oh Suns.¡±


    I rush to the edge. Kaki sits there, in the exact same position he¡¯d been before, eyes shut tight. I let out a breath of relief. As soon as the relief comes that Kaki has not suddenly turned into a glowing, ethereal Sun-child or something, or been taken away early by Kirill himself, I let myself smile. I wonder how he feels, if he feels enlightened in any way.


    He looks around a little wildly, then makes eye contact with me and manages a smile before glancing down at his arms.


    They are scalding red, the ends of his tunic frayed. I make a quick check of his face. His cheeks are too. His nose, but it is his arms that scream with red-hot anger.


    ¡°Kaki!¡± I yell without thinking. I try to scramble down the steps of the ribcage, but one of the Fathers has already swept Kaki into his arms, as Kaki lets out a long moan. Enlightened Everleigh stares at the spot where Kaki sat, unblinking.


    Then she raises her hands, summons the rays of Kirill again. And she turns them into two women, dancing around her head. Women that fade in and out, flickering the same way the light in the Temple does, casting us into occasional darkness.


    The Father is rushing out of the room, Kaki rocking in his arms, bridal-style.


    I stumble down dozens of steps, tripping over my bare feet and scratching both my knees to follow them, ignoring Miss Gennadi¡¯s calls.


    ***


    I ignore Kaki¡¯s complaints as I wrap his arms in thick bandages. He should have been with a proper nurse, but he said he would throw a fit if anyone touches him except me¨Cthink of all the fun Walas will have with that statement, I thought. But then he said, ¡°I¡¯ve had so many adults drag me around and try to touch my ¡®Pure¡¯ skin or try to cure by ¡®Impure¡¯ skin. I don¡¯t want another one thinking that. I know you won¡¯t.¡±


    We¡¯re in his chamber, sitting on his bed. Enlightened Everleigh was here for a brief second, but she didn¡¯t even ask how her nephew was. She just popped her head in and let out a strangled sound. I thought it was a sob.


    ¡°It was all because of a bad dream,¡± he says. ¡°I told her about it, and she told me that this was a sign. A sign of what? I don¡¯t know! She just kept on repeating, ¡®This is how it works. This is how it works.¡¯ Falls asleep. Then: ¡®This is how it works. Please tell me this is how it works.¡¯ She cried in my arms, Nadya. Fell asleep again. Then: ¡®This is how it works. This is how it works.¡¯ She¡¯s erratic. She¡¯s insane. I hate her.¡°


    I sigh. ¡°Don¡¯t say that.¡±


    ¡°I do. I really do.¡±


    ¡°She¡¯s your family,¡± I insist.


    ¡°I think she¡¯d rather I be dead. Why else would she subject me to this?¡±


    ¡°Don¡¯t say that.¡±


    Kaki sighs and looks away from me. ¡°You don¡¯t get it.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m sorry.¡± I rub salve over his right arm. ¡°She shouldn¡¯t have hurt you like this either way, dream or no dream.¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s not even that, it¡¯s¡­. I don¡¯t know. She¡¯s¡­ she¡¯s not even a monster. She cried in my arms.¡±


    ¡°You already said that.¡±


    ¡°Sometimes I wonder,¡± Kaki says, ¡°if she¡¯s like this because of the War or because she¡¯s Enlightened. But Enlightened Alranath and Daniya¨Cwell, they are a bit erratic, but they aren¡¯t like her.¡±


    ¡°They weren¡¯t prisoners for hundreds of Moons like her on a hostile island,¡± I point out.


    ¡°Yes,¡± Kaki says quietly. ¡°They were. They just won¡¯t ever be remembered for it.¡±


    I do not have a formal education, but I do know the basics of the Sixty-Seven Cycle War because of Storytellers and common thought. Rebel groups wanted to resist the Noble Party of Purity, the families who believed in equality amongst the classes, who fought for better farms and better food distribution throughout the kingdom. And Enlightened Everleigh was on the front lines. She was a Top General. A master strategist. She fought against all the rebel groups but mainly the Souls of Anlat¨Ca group of mass terrorists.


    I can¡¯t recall any specific battles or people or anything, but there are murals in the certain wings of the Fortress. Of course, Enlightened Alranath and Daniya had to have been entirely special to be blessed by the Suns, but there are more murals of Enlightened Everleigh than anyone else.


    ¡°Enlightened Alranath talks about it sometimes,¡± Kaki says as I rub a salve of different spits and pounded, carefully extracted plague-free roots onto his hands. Nadya, please. This is nothing. You don¡¯t have to do all this when my skin will clear in a few cycles.¡±


    ¡°You¡¯re hurt,¡± I say stubbornly.


    ¡°Hardly.¡±


    ¡°What do you mean hardly? Look at you!¡±


    ¡°This is nothing compared to the kids living out there.¡±


    ¡°Out wh¨CKaki,¡± I say with an exasperated sigh. I rub more salve on his cheeks. I try to turn off my ¡®mother mode.¡¯ He doesn¡¯t need that. He needs a friend. ¡°I¡¯m sorry. How was the trip to Mecraentos?¡±


    I expect him to perk up instantly, as he always does when talking about his weird discoveries or theories. Instead, he slumps a little more. This is more concerning than his burnt skin, I determine. ¡°Jeran tried to answer my questions, but he could not. So, you know, the Shenai¡ª¡±


    ¡°The Shenai? Jeran?¡±


    ¡°Oh. Wait, did I not tell you?¡±


    I shake my head. ¡°You were mad at me after the Feast. You didn¡¯t tell me what you wanted to say then.¡±


    ¡°What?¡± Kaki says. ¡°I wasn¡¯t mad at you.¡±


    ¡°Or frustrated,¡± I say. ¡°Not mad.¡±


    ¡°Was I?¡± He scratches his head with a reddened finger and winces. ¡°Ow. That does hurt.¡±


    ¡°Told you,¡± I snap.


    ¡°Nadya.¡± But there¡¯s a smile on his face. ¡°Okay, I don¡¯t think I was frustrated with you, but if I was, I¡¯m sorry, and you can tell me if I ever both you, you know that? It¡¯s better if you do.¡±


    ¡°You don¡¯t tell me when I bother you.¡±


    ¡°Because you don¡¯t.¡± He makes an exaggerated ¡®thinking¡¯ gesture. ¡°Well, except for that time when you were insisting that all the clothes I was wearing weren¡¯t ¡®appropriate¡¯ for the nighting, or when you were nagging me about that pie that you insisted was chestnut except we aren¡¯t growing chestnuts anymore or that time when¡ª¡±


    I roll my eyes. ¡°Kaki.¡±


    ¡°Nadya.¡± He nudges my shoulder gently with his. I don¡¯t return the gesture. It feels weird. He does it again. Then again. And again, again, again.


    I say, ¡°So Jeran is the sinner you¡¯ve been buying from?¡±


    ¡°Nadya.¡±


    I flush. ¡°Sorry. I won¡¯t say anything about him. I¡¯m sure he¡¯s a good man, really. Just bore me with talk about your book.¡±


    ¡°You like me talking about my books.¡±


    My cheeks go red. ¡°No. I don¡¯t.¡±


    ¡°Yeah you definitely do.¡±


    ¡°Preferably to you abusing me. And because you get so distracted I can start spacing out and my brain can be quiet and peaceful.¡±


    ¡°The book I was reading, about the nomads in the Javimoe desert,¡± he says. ¡°Actually, can you grab it? It¡¯s beneath my cot.¡±


    I do, careful not to open it. He does, revealing the utterly blank pages.


    ¡°How did Jeran obtain this anyways?¡± I ask.


    "I don''t know. I never asked." But his voice is strained. I know Kaki like the back of my hand, sometimes. I know when he lies, at least, for he does not do so very often. I decide not to point this out because I do not want to know.


    "I have not quite finished it, but as I was reading, I realized that the book was a diary written hundreds and hundreds of cycles ago by the hand of someone named Var-Nashi. This Nashi, she¡ªI think she¡¯s a she, but I don¡¯t know for certain¡ªshe was indeed a traveler. That¡¯s what nomads are. They don¡¯t have just one home. Back then, Javimoe was called the City of Gold and it was prosperous, very prosperous. There¡¯s a lot of words I don¡¯t understand, references to a culture I do not get. You know¡ªsorry, this is a bit off topic, but not really¡ªbut I want to see it now. Modern Javimoe, I mean, not the ancient one. I want to see if it looks anything like Mecraentos.¡± His voice hitches a bit at that. ¡°You know, Mecraentos was spelt differently at the time, with two ''k''s instead of a ''c.'' Isn''t that interesting?"


    I shrug noncommittally, deciding not to remind Kaki that I cannot read.


    ¡°So there were a peoples called the Shenai that lived mostly in Mecraentos, our ancestors. I cannot tell what made them so different from the people in Javimoe, other than that they were more¡­ conservative? In their dress? I suppose, I don¡¯t quite know. Nashi wrote with little context, just called them ¡®lifeless¡¯ and ¡®prudent.¡¯ And¡ªwait, what was I saying?¡±


    ¡°The Shenai.¡±


    ¡°Right. The Shenai, they worshiped and read the Cat¡¯talris, according to Nashi, and that¡¯s why she was on this trip to Mecraentos, to meet the Shenai. And, as I was reading, I thought maybe the Cat¡¯talris was a predecessor to Yevanian religious texts because they worship the ¡®elementals¡¯ but then I realized¡ªthere was no plague at this time. So whoever the elementals were, they weren¡¯t the Enlightened.¡±


    ¡°Okay,¡± I say.


    ¡°You know, and that got me thinking; we don¡¯t have a real first date that the plague appeared. No one remembers that far back and our scholars, the texts that Alranath has me read, they¡¯re all wonky. And here''s the part that I wanted to ask Jeran about: if the plague was not there at the time, how come the rest of the City is still made of plague-ridden wood? The City is nearly as old as the Fortress, and clearly Mecraentos existed at this time. Do the trees become plague-ridden after they''ve been chopped from the root, after they are dead? It doesn''t seem to make sense."


    ¡°Everyone says that it appeared at different times in different places, as it spread?¡±


    ¡°Yes, but still. Other than the people in the Cratic or on the Ten Islands, where did these other religious groups go, you know? Or even the Javimoe nomads? I¡¯m sure there were other divisions of people like the Shenai. At least one other was mentioned. I forget what they¡¯re called but Nashi called them ¡®sweeter than the Shenai.¡¯ It just gets you wondering, reading from the perspective of the past. I do not think Javimoe is the City of Gold anymore. People say it¡¯s just a broken desert city.¡±


    I shrug. I have never talked to anyone about Javimoe or had the opportunity to.


    ¡°If this was before the plague,¡± I say, ¡°then Nashi¡¯s Soul was completely pure.¡±


    ¡°I suppose,¡± Kaki says.


    ¡°If the Shenai or the other groups didn¡¯t believe in Kirill and Gerasim, they were probably the first to be wiped out when the plague hit.¡±


    ¡°I mean¡­. Sure, maybe. I don¡¯t know. I want to know, but I doubt many people in this city have the answers.¡± He brushes a hand back through his hair. ¡°I wandered Mecraentos for a while before I came back, just sort of looking I guess.¡±


    ¡°Was that interesting?¡±


    ¡°It was sad, so yes. Interesting.¡±


    I think about the sights over the wall, about how close I was to joining him in the City, to meeting this Jeran.


    I don¡¯t want to know. My life is good here. Why waste it chasing answers that are unnecessary to the present, same as chasing a life I cannot live?


    I want to change the subject. I want to ask Kaki about Lightened Roe¡¯s recitals, but that feels too selfish of me, and hypocritical.


    Kaki lays back against the headboard of his bed as I ask, ¡°Do you know who Iolanda is?¡±


    ¡°Iolanda? Yes, she¡¯s¡ª¡±


    I can hear footsteps coming from down the hall. I perk up and say, ¡°Who is that?¡±


    ¡°Who¡¯s who?¡± Kaki asks, not able to hear as far as I can.


    Three knocks sound on the chamber door. ¡°Come in!¡± Kaki says.


    Stepping into the chamber is Enlightened Alranath, Kaki¡¯s tutor and the third person to have ever beaten the plague and been blessed by the Suns within the last few cycles. He is significantly less frail than most of the older men in the Fortress, since the plague is not eating away at him. He is built with muscle and stands straight, wearing an expensive vest and skirt-like garment that is reserved only for the Enlighteneds in a dark blue color scheme. His hair is long, reaching his waist, and on his nose are a pair of lenses, completely contrasting the ¡®warrior¡¯ image. He smells vaguely of smoke, the aroma wafting into the room as he strides in, as though he owns the place.


    While Enlightened Everleigh was blessed with the power of Sunlight, he is blessed with the Suns¡¯ Breath. Gusts of wind that he controls keeps the tailend of his garments up and his hair floating, walking with his feet slightly off the ground, making him seem as though he is constantly suspended, about to enter another dimension. It is beautiful.


    I raise my palm to my forehead. ¡°Enlightened.¡±


    He smiles at me. ¡°Bakiyoria, who is this?¡±


    ¡°That¡¯s Nadya, Enlightened,¡± Kaki says. ¡°Remember?¡±


    ¡°Nice to meet you,¡± he says, even though we¡¯ve met three times at this point. I nod.


    Enlightened Alranath tilts his head. ¡°Bakiyoria, did you redo your chamber? It is different than I remember. Were the walls not stained blue?¡±


    ¡°No,¡± Kaki says. ¡°I moved out of that one cycles ago.¡±


    ¡°Really? I thought you¡¯d just changed it. I went looking down the old corridor for you.¡± He laughs heartily.


    Kaki just smiles. Enlightened Alranath pulls out a piece of paper, which has real words on it. ¡°Everleigh wanted me to go over the Food-Trade Industry with you and to discuss your decision about not attending the Sen-Fair retreat. And, see here, I made this note for myself. ¡®The Sen-Fair is a retreat to provide young, brilliant minds with the opportunity to better Purify their Souls before the treacherous final Trials that will conclude their studies with their tutors for the year before a break for studies in more social-liberal studies.¡¯ Ah! How lovely.¡±


    ¡°We¡¯ve already discussed it, Enlightened,¡± Kaki says. ¡°You and I both determined that I do not need my soul purified any more.¡±


    ¡°Did we?¡±


    I shoot Kaki a glance. I know he did not, based on that cheeky smile that he is fighting to be rid of.


    ¡°Yes,¡± Kaki says, winking at me. I just roll my eyes. ¡°We did.¡±


    ¡°Then let us move onto the subject of your Thesis for the Trials. They approach rapidly, my dear boy.¡±


    ¡°We¡¯ve discussed that too,¡± Kaki says. ¡°Remember? I am not to participate in them.¡±


    Enlightened Alranath falters. ¡°Ah. That cannot be right. The Trials are important for any noble boy, a chance to prove your intelligence, a chance for a seat¨C¡±


    ¡°Yes, yes, I know,¡± Kaki says. ¡°But I would rather not participate.¡±


    ¡°Is there a reason so?¡±


    ¡°They are contrived and stupid.¡±


    ¡°So¡­ why am I here?¡± Enlightened Alranath says. ¡°These lessons are only to prepare you for your Trials. Why have I¨C¡±


    ¡°I still enjoy the lessons themselves,¡± Kaki says. ¡°And I appreciate them greatly. I do enjoy to hear you speak. Remember? You can also be more lax on the subjects. We do not only have to talk about what I will be tested on. Remember?¡±


    Enlightened Alranath nods. ¡°Yes, yes.¡±


    I slip away before I can listen in on something I am not supposed to.


    ***

 Ash and Stone VIIIS - Nadya

    NADYA


    Kaki has always hated the Purity Checkers. Devoted members of the Suns and the Temples visit on a weekly basis to make sure their Souls are healthy and that their number of fractures are lessening instead of increasing.


    The Purity Checkers have their own cottage in the very back of the Fortress. They live a modest life to repay for the power that they were given. To become a Purity Checker, one has to give up nobility. One has to be nearly completely Pure but reject any other opportunities that will perhaps allow an ascension into Enlightenedhood, like the Sen-Fair. It is a noble pursuit, and they are regarded in a higher fashion than the Fathers and Mothers of the Temples.


    The cottages are made of plain wood with no windows or anything decorating the lawns. There is often a very long line to have one¡¯s Soul Checked, as there are not as many Purity Checkers as people who need to be Checked. When we go as a group, Walas or Ponnie will usually complain about it, which annoys me. How can they not see that the lines are a test in themselves? A test of patience?


    The line is even longer tonight. After what Enlightened Everleigh did to Kaki, many must have felt the same enlightenment that I did in the Temple. We all want to know if, somehow, witnesses Enlightened Everleigh¡¯s power affected our Souls.


    I think that this is a selfish endeavor. After leaving Kaki, I debated over coming to the cottages. For one does not become Pure by being in the presence of someone Purer. That feels like cheating.


    But I couldn¡¯t resist. Just as I couldn¡¯t resist taking that necklace, or nearly visiting Kaki¡¯s Jeran in the City.


    I wait in the line for a long, long time. By the time I make it into the actual cottage, the Moons have risen. I made sure to complete all my duties before coming, however, so that Missus Yarna would not have a reason to be angry with me.


    Inside, the place is sparsely decorated and smells of nothing. I relish it.


    The Purity checkers sit on weaved mats, keeping their gazes deliberately at our knees. Every part of their skin is covered by a drape of skin dyed pale blue, leading them to seem even less like people. There are five in total. No one is to remember their Old Names. Now they are simply known as the collective Checkers.


    Those who have already been Checked file away, their faces blank. We are not to show satisfaction or dissatisfaction.


    I sit about a hand away from the mat and close my eyes. No words are ever spoken during the Checking of one¡¯s soul.


    The Checkers are trained in the Temples, like Fathers and Mothers, but their training is not or will ever be known by the public. All we know is that they have to be of the Iya class, with less than a one percent fracture and are blessed with the ability to see a map of someone else¡¯s Soul.


    The Checker in front of me leans in to whisper. I am not sure how they do it, but they manage to whisper so softly that no one else but the person they speak to can hear.


    ¡°Dear Nadya,¡± the Checker says. I cannot even tell if they are male or female. ¡°Your fractures have gotten worse. You are not here under the advisement of your patron, Missus Yarna, are you?¡±


    How did you know? I want to ask, but I hold my tongue and simply shake my head.


    ¡°Nadya, if you cannot find a way to abide your own wants and surrender yourself completely to the Suns, you shall never be Pure,¡± the Checker says.


    I know, I want to scream. I know.


    ¡°How can I be better?¡±


    ¡°I recommend you fast for three Suns and three Moons,¡± the Checker says. ¡°To remind you how much fuller you feel without indulgent behavior. I sense that you have something to confess to me, Nadya. Is there something you want to say?¡±


    I hesitate. ¡°Yes,¡± I whisper. ¡°I stole something previous.¡±


    ¡°Ah, Nadya. You are lucky that your Soul did not fracture any more. I cannot judge you, but I hope you understand that this is a setback. Be cautious, Nadya. You walk a fine line. For this, I recommend that you give up one of your prized possessions. Bring them here tomorrow.¡±


    ¡°I have so few,¡± I cannot help but protest.


    ¡°Nadya.¡±


    ¡°Yes. Of course. I¡¯m sorry.¡±


    ¡°I understand, Nadya. I will always be here to aid you in your journey towards Purity.¡±


    ¡°Okay,¡± I say. ¡°I have a question. It¡¯s¡ª¡±


    ¡°Questions are indulgent as well. You know this, Nadya. You want to be more than Ospry, don¡¯t you? Appreciate what you have now. Do not ask, what can I be in this many cycles? What if I had this and that? Who can I meet in the future that will bring about my coming? This is all unnecessary.¡±


    ¡°Of course.¡±


    ¡°Goodbye, Nadya.¡±


    ¡°Goodbye. Thank you.¡± I press my palm to my forehead, then leave.


    ***


    Ponnie and I wander through the courtyard, carrying our own respective baskets of laundry that we picked up from the washroom. Then we are to purchase a pack of feathers for Missus Yarna from a merchant named Genasis. He¡¯s supposed to be pulled in a red carriage.


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    ¡°Did you see the new kitchen boy, Mikial? He is so handsome,¡± Ponnie says gleefully.


    I just nod. ¡°Sure.¡±


    ¡°He¡¯s from Sal Gasve, Walas said so.¡±


    Ponnie and I are around the same age, but she looks older than me. We wear the same frock and her braids are pulled back into a bun. We both grew up in the Fortress. Except, unlike me, both her parents were servants before her, working mainly with event setups than working personally with any noble children. They died of the plague last cycle in a brutal series of lashing outs, but Ponnie still looks back at them fondly. Black scales are already growing on Ponnie¡¯s cheeks. Such early growth means she might follow in their footsteps. The thought of sweet Ponnie screaming animalistically, clawing at her loved ones and screaming incessantly does not correlate in my mind.


    ¡°You and I never get alone time like this,¡± Ponnie says. ¡°It¡¯s all work, work, work all the time. We need to have a girls day, with Chi-Chi and Lista and Quincy too.¡±


    ¡°We do not have the time for that,¡± I say.


    ¡°At night. A girl¡¯s night. Wouldn¡¯t that be so lovely?¡±


    ¡°It sounds nice.¡±


    I smile politely at a few passing faces. Tourists, visiting merchants, members of the Industries, Mothers and Fathers, Storytellers, performers, more members of the Industries, as well as many high-class men and women simply conversing and drinking from small stone cups. Many of the tourists don lighter clothing, indicating they are from inner Mecraentos, where the weather is less extreme or the Islands, where it is warm constantly. I hear the stuttering roar of an engine from nearby. The red, steam-powered carriage stops a few legs away, in the corner of the yard.


    ¡°Is that the carriage?¡± Ponnie asks.


    ¡°I think so,¡± I say.


    The carriage is of an older model, but the sort designed just for merchants, with bigger doors that stay extending, displaying a traveling merchants¡¯ goods. The man setting up shop has a hunch so bad it seems as though he is hump-backed. I can see the fingers of his hands have already melded into one bone, the skin hardly covering it. His ears are folding into his skull and his hair is so thin he is nearly bald. It makes sense for his face tells me he is probably in his early twenties, nearing his end.


    ¡°What did she want us to buy again?¡±


    ¡°Feathers,¡± I say. ¡°I think someone requested a cloak to be made.¡±


    ¡°Hello!¡± Ponnie says to the seller gleefully. We tell him what we¡¯re looking for¡ªI remember what Missus Yarna said better than Ponnie. She wanted black feathers specifically. We look through his collection, settling on some that are tucked in the very back of the carriage doors, wrapped in a gold twine.


    The fixed price for a pound of feathers is twenty coin, decided by the Industry last week. Since this man clearly has a small business, however, there is also some leeway for trades, but the fixed prices help ensure that no one has a monopoly on any one industry and destroy our economy.


    We offer him the twenty coin. He hesitates, staring at the feathers. ¡°They was my wife¡¯s.¡±


    ¡°Oh,¡± Ponnie and I say in unison.


    ¡°Well, if they aren¡¯t for sale¡ª¡± I start.


    ¡°No, no. Take good care of them, little girls. They are new.¡± He starts to take them off the shelf, using his mouth to undo the twine instead of his nonexistent hands.


    ¡°New?¡± Ponnie repeats. ¡°I¡¯m so sorry.¡±


    He laughs. It takes me a second to realize it is bitter. ¡°Y¡¯all should be. She was sent to the Slaughter House right over there. Right over there.¡± His gaze lingers, and that¡¯s when I notice there is something odd about his face. The white part of his eyes are darker than the usual person¡¯s, and his fingers twitch in a weird way. Perhaps it is the plague.


    ¡°Sent to the Slaughter House?¡± Ponnie repeats.


    He hands me the bag of feathers. ¡°Are you deaf, girl?¡±


    ¡°That means the plague was making her unmanageable and she had to be put down,¡± I whisper into Ponnie¡¯s ear. She can be a little ignorant.


    Being sent to a Slaughter House is supposed to be more common in the City. Here, once someone is rabid, their families or a loved one typically chains them up and then they are given a special poison to have their passing be less aggressively distraught. This is what happened to Ponnie¡¯s parents.


    But the man turns toward me at an uncanny speed. It surprises me, makes me stumble back a little.


    ¡°Unmanageable? No, no, no. Not Giselle, no. Never.¡± He tilts his head. ¡°You two seem nice. See, my Giselle, she was raisin fundin for a festival for the orphan kids on Fyi Streets, alls four of them. You two, you should come. Here, here. It¡¯s fun, for kids. Very fun. It¡¯d mean so much to my Giselle, if the kids make it and they get to talk to you fancy rich kids. It¡¯d mean so much. Wait, wait one second.¡±


    He reaches into the driver¡¯s seat of the carriage, using both stumps to hand Ponnie and I a stack of papers.


    They¡¯re covered with words and drawings, drawn crudely with blood. I cannot read them, but I know the drawing is some sort of map.


    ¡°My Giselle, her festival on the Fyi Streets,¡± the man says. ¡°Please, spread the word. It¡ª¡±


    ¡°Your wife wrote this?¡± I say.


    ¡°Yes, she¡ª¡±


    ¡°She learned to write?¡±


    The man just winks at me and makes a shooing motion.


    A light horror runs through me. Ponnie glances at me, her mouth agape.


    We hurry away from this man. Ponnie leans in towards me. ¡°Nadya! Nadya, that man is certainly not Pure enough to¡ª¡±


    ¡°I know,¡± I say.


    ¡°We¡¯re going to be smited just touching these things!¡±


    ¡°Ponnie¡ª¡±


    ¡°We should burn them,¡± she says frantically. ¡°We have to burn them before anyone else can read them, okay? Come on, let¡¯s go over to the furnaces in the Kitchens. Suns, we have to tell Missus Yarna. What was his name again? Genesis? She has to tell the authorities, doesn¡¯t she? This is illegal. Nadya, this is like those stories in the plays. About the criminals.¡±


    She speaks so fast I can hardly comprehend it at all.


    ¡°Yes,¡± I say. ¡°We¡¯ll burn them.¡±


    We head to the Kitchens, Ponnie rambling all the way, but I have tuned her out.


    We were given a stack of about thirty papers, made of crudely printed bark, black specks dotted throughout the material because of the plague.


    Ponnie wastes no time getting the fire going.


    Her back is turned to me. I glance over at the stack, thrown messily on the stone counter. I pick one up, my fingers trembling.


    When I first realized what they were, my first thought was, Kaki would want to attend this.


    I clench my jaw tight. This situation is so eerily similar to the moment with Lightened Roe¡¯s necklace.


    We believe in working towards our own Purity because of Enlightenment, to escape the plague, but also because it is a set of moral good, a set of moral obligations that we agreed to meet when Kirill and Gerasim blessed us with life in their domain. To live life in appreciation but with that comes various hurdles to jump. For the Ospry, indulgent behavior. Overexcitement. A lack of understanding of the nuances in life. Too fast of a pace. For the Genai, they often have a problem with superiority. For the Tyn, the most fractured of all the classes, it is a lack of faith¡ªgiving up on both our makers and one¡¯s self.


    As long as we work towards Purity and goodness, even if none of us reach Enlightenedhood and we succumb to the plague, we know we have served our Suns just as they served us. This is why simply having a job is seen as a step towards Purity¡ªwe are serving the society that has given us life just as much as the Suns¡¯ have.


    But if we actively do not, we do not simply succumb to the plague. Our physical body may die, but our minds will not. We will be in a hell of our own making.


    It is not as though I am trying to read these fliers. I want to help out a friend, who was born Pure enough and is clearly favored by the Suns. But when does one¡¯s sins become the sins of others? We can¡¯t control other people. When Kaki buys books from those like Genesis¡¯ wife, does that make him as bad as her? If I were to pocket this flier as I pocketed that necklace, would I be as bad as he?


    There is a reason why his wife succumbed to the plague. It was most likely the Suns¡¯ retribution for her direct refusal to follow a simple rule of life.


    I stare at the fliers on the counter.

 Ash and Stone IX - Asaio

    ASAIO


    In the time it takes for Flynn, Asher, and I to trudge from our warehouse to the pleasure district, Vinyerd, the rain''s picked up so much that the droplets are startin to burn as they make contact with skin. Storms are harsh round here, so we all got to develop thick skins. There are barrels and such to catch the rain throughout the City but, with huge storms, you got to tie your belongins down less you live in a real enclosed space like us Garnets do. We''re lucky that way. Other people got to pray till the storm clears. The City''s homes were built with elevated floors and such to withstand them, but they ain''t enough. I whisper to nearby brush, havin it cover us as much as possible, but it''s hard to do that without bein seen by the unfriendly public.


    At the ripe age of seven, after realizin that whisperin leaves ain''t normal because of the way Isaela and Sans freaked out when they found out I could do it, I determined not to share that gift with the world. It got worse with each dayI grew and Sans expected to find non-existent plague symptoms in me. Plenty of people are bein sent to the Slaughter Houses on the daily for too many fractures or crimes against the Industry or ''abusin the gifts of the plague.'' That''s a big one, and I ain''t tryin to end up like one of those folk.


    We settle for runnin beneath slanted rooftops to avoid any more elemental abuse, makin sure not to stand directly beneath the corners, where the rain''s pilin up and comin onto the ground hard enough to kill someone. The water''s already risin to my ankles. Our City floods frequently, so it''s covered in drainages which, durin Dry Season, make for fun hidin places.


    We dodge the Black Streets and keep on. No one wants to be near the Black Streets.


    The Vineyerd District is made up of a bunch of streets. It''s right on the brink of ''tourist area,'' but not the dingy sort of ''tourist area.'' Most tourists are from the TEn Islands or other Cities are all so far apart they might as well be different countires. There ain''t anybody from Damaskraga since they''re pretty isolate. Since these tourists are from our own or the Islands, they got a bit of an averseness to anythin that don''t picture Mecreanots City in the flashy, beautiful way that it''s known as in the Fortress. These tourists don''t want to see brothels, especially kid-brothels, so it''s a bit ironic that the Vineyerd is right near by.


    The street''s called Carnum and Catum. The block ain¡¯t really called that but it got nicknamed by locals since that¡¯s where Carnum and Catum, two brothers, went missin and then were discovered to be kidnapped by some creepers after findin them in one of the brothels, the Penthouse, years and years ago. Seran told me the story.


    Most of the pleasure houses are marked with hand-drawn signs on their doors. Some are long top hats, for the Lime Men. Some are red rubies. But they all also have the ''dove'', a bird that once existed before the plague, and it''s the sign that lets you know these brothels are registered and monitored by the Industry of Entertainment.


    We round the corner, narrowly avoidin bein hit by a very angry coach driver. Asher rubs a bruise on his arm, probably just made from the rain. "Sssik¨¦, that hurts." I don''t recognize the first word.


    "Hold on, Flynn." I''m still wearin the mask that hides my face, but now I take off the cloak of Mono-Man''s skin. Beneath it, I wear standard Mecraenton paddin against the rain: tough, pliable, plague-ridden pieces of wood that are weaved into pallets. They keep the rain from bruisin too hard, same with the occasional ice-rain. I take mine off and hand them to him.


    "Don''t you need them?" he says.


    "Nah, I got thick skin." I help him fit it on. The rain''s already startin to punch through my skin.


    "Michie doesn''t have these," he says.


    "Yeah, not everyone''s got em. Some people got helmets and stuff, or they put metal on their rooftops or somethin. We came up with these, cause they''re easy for me to make. Don''t rain too much where you''re from?"


    "It rains more, but the rain is calm and clear, not angry like this."


    "Blame the Suns or whatever you believe in."


    Beside me, I hear Flynn utter some prayer. Not a Yevanian one though.


    Carnum and Catum''s known for bein real dark, with more vile and rottin wood and veins than many other blocks of the City. There ain''t as much trash or bone or death on the streets since, you know, the place has got to be marketable and aesthetic, but the cost is that everythin feels a little too shallow. You know it''s all a facade. You know that beautiful mural on that nearby wall is probably coverin up some stain or grafitti or somethin. Or that those metal bars weren''t there for the aesthetic of your establishment--rather that your establishment was once a prison. The roofs are so broken down and beaten that they hang like canopies over us, block away the red sky. Brothel owners have taken full advantage of that, sometimes decoratin those roofs with glowshrooms or other species of fungi that kind of look pretty enough to be non-plague ridden flowers, so people feel special walkin through here. While it can be nice, it keeps light out and makes it seem like the Suns never rise here.


    The buskers here are real good, mostly girl-singers. The different brothels like havin different performers to help lure in their customers, so the place is alight with music and color.


    We stand a few legs away from The Shaver, a rather horrible and intentionally cruel name for a child-brothel. It doesn¡¯t even look like anythin suspectin. Just a slab of old stone and wood with expensively weaved carpets outside. However, next to the painted dove on the side of the front door, there are two red-colored bugs painted on the door.


    This place is part of Yaselle¡¯s Bugs territory. If it wasn¡¯t, we Garnets would have probably tried to mark it as our own somehow¡ªunsure how, since we got so few numbers and no establishments except Michie nearly twenty blocks away¡ªbut that¡¯s just too risky for both the kids and us right now.


    "Here?" Asher says, examinin the semi-large buildin up and down.


    ¡°Yup,¡± I say.


    ¡°You two stay here in your free time?¡±


    ¡°Yup. We help out.¡±


    ¡°Oh.¡±


    "Not like that," I say hurriedly. While this place don''t advertise what it is that loudly, the others on the street do, with rather graphic pictures. "The Mistress knows me and Flynn real well. She feels pretty bad for a lot of the kids here, keeps them as safe as she can. A lot of them are freed victims of the Child-Nappers that the orphanages couldn''t take in. They''re like, I dunno, Garnet adjacent. They can''t really help us in a rumble or somethin, but we got their backs sometimes. We just watch--well, not like that--but we keep an eye out for real hoodlum sorts that''ll probably hurt the kids and sometimes we try to get the real rick folk over here to try and buy the kids out. You know, us Garnets are real good actors, so it works surprisingly well. Or if it ain''t, we can mug extra coin off some poor soul and we donate it sometimes."


    A lot of Garnets have personal history with the Shaver. Asher is silent as we approach it.


    From the corner of my eye, I note a Purer lookin woman talkin to a man by what used to be a shroom lamp. I angle myself towards them, gesturin for Flynn to keep movin ahead, lettin Asher decide whether or not he wants to follow.


    Asher decides to keep movin forward with Flynn, but pausin indiscreetly at a corner to observe me.


    She stands by some overgrown brush. I gently whisper and direct the nearby branches towards her man''s pockets, almost pattin him down but with a touch as light as a feather. When I catch notice of a laurel, probably an engagement laurel, I gesture for an extremely thin whick of branch to pick it up.


    Asher raises a brow but remains silent. I glance at Flynn. "We got some time before Vernon and Vip and Ana are done talkin to Kamon and we got to figure out what we''re doin at the harbor."


    I''ve never been to the other brothels, but Ellie''s said that The Shaver was made to look particularly friendly on the inside. Braided vines hang down from the walls. All the imported carpets have designs of flowers and such. There are a bunch of candles, which are out of date so it gives the place an old-timey feel, and it smells nice, warm sort of. I don''t know how the Mistress managed it, but my nose ain''t cryin out with each breath I take. It''s all the same sort of twisted show that is this City.


    Live branches line the floor from seeds that had been painstakingly bought from Michie, my gift.


    There''s the small front desk area, which is currently unoccupied, and then it breaks off into a bunch of private rooms.


    Two young-ish men, with few plague-symptoms I can see, wait in line ahead of us.


    "Bye," Flynn says abruptly. He breaks off from Asher and I, turnin left into the ''Red Rooms.'' Dependin on how much you pay, there are different rankins. Industry of Entertainment''s gives more leeway to its businesses on prices than other Industries--which keep everythin and everyone at a hard number in terms of coin and stock--since you can''t really regulate a person''s person. You also get paid in reputation.


    "He''s quiet," Asher notes.


    I like that he don''t ask where Flynn''s goin, like how he didn''t ask who the Garnets were. He likes to figure things out on his own, and that''s a good trait to have, even if you''re part of a collective.


    I eye the two men in line in front of us, tryin to gauge how civil they are. Since they''re younger, they ain''t here for maternity reasons. See, a brothel, of course, means prostitution. But, at The Shaver, a lot of the time these kids are here to keep the company of grievin parents, or plague-ridden parents that are slowly losin their minds and are unsure of who their real kids are, or maybe their kids gave up on them and sent them here so they could live somewhat peacefully in their last few days. It''s a good alternative to Slaughter Houses. Customers like these, you can''t help but just feel bad for them. And even if it''s weird you''re comin to a brothel for that purpose, the kids don''t mind too much.


    These men ain''t that. Nah, they''re antsy. They''re touchin the desk impatiently and lookin over. One calls, "Hey, hussy! You in there?"


    Asher leans in close to me and points to them, shakin his head. I nod. I have a feelin they''ll give the Mistress a hard time. And, in turn, the kids''.


    Asher adjusts his quiver. I reach over and push it back deeper into his cloak. "We don''t want her gettin a bad rep. But if they lay a hand or the kids don''t want em, then we can give em a good scare."


    "Okay."


    One of the men turns towards us. He''s not big and brawly but he sure would like to be, I bet. He wears an extremely large cloak with four overwrought, hefty pockets. ¡°Who are you kids?¡±


    "What the fuck is this service?" the other says. He''s wearin fashion of a similar size and style. I''ve seen em often. Cold Cities, like Dulxm Un, wear those. They got human hair on the inside to keep warm. "I don''t care. I''m going in."


    "Probably shouldn''t be speakin like that," I say. "All crude around the kids."


    The man facin us eyes me. "Who are you?"


    "This my aunt''s place," I say. "I can help you if you want."


    ¡°Your aunt,¡± he says. ¡°Nah. You¡¯re lying. Don¡¯t think I haven¡¯t seen little rats like you all over.¡±


    ¡°Nah, I¡¯m not,¡± I say, comin around towards the front desk as though I¡¯ve got any official business. ¡°What are you lookin for? A dime-girl? Red, Yellow, Green, or Blue? I haven¡¯t seen y¡¯all around before. I figure you¡¯re new to town? From somewhere foreign?¡±


    "Kid, just call the bitch of the house."


    I bristle at that. "I can get you cheaper prices than the fixes ones. man to man. Or boy to boy, I guess."


    ¡°Whatever. Just get us a good room and a good girl.¡±


    ¡°You sharin?¡±


    ¡°Excuse me?¡± the one on the right says, as if this is more ludicrous than them bein here in the first place.


    ¡°Alright, whatever,¡± I say. ¡°That¡¯s probably better anyways, since you¡¯re less likely to contract whatever¡¯s goin on down at Mayers.¡±


    ¡°Contract?¡±


    "Yeah," I say. There''s a stack of papers on the Mistress'' desk. I start to flip through em. That''s how I know these guys are probably tourists from the Islands. They don''t know that people here are illiterate cause most of us ain''t Pure enough to learn to read. There are a couple schools here, but they''re real selective and they''re mostly for learnin other languages verbally. "That smoke-lung has been goin around the Factory District, or whatever."


    "Smoke-lung?" one of the guys says.


    "He''s bluffing, can''t you tell? Suns."


    "Not really," I say, and I''m not. "I''m just warnin you, cause a lot of the kids from the orphanages are real sick right now. I should know. I''m one of them. Not that it should affect much since it ain''t contagious if you ain''t, you know, workin near the smoke."


    "This whole City is covered in smoke," the first guy says.


    I shrug. "Or if you come into too much contact with their breath. Works the same as smoke, you know. In the air. Suns don''t like that."


    Sometimes I''ll pull the, ain''t you a good Valka man? Or any other class of Yevanian Purity, since brothels ain''t really virtuous and certainly does not help heal fractures or keep the pluckers, the Soul Checkers, happy, and they know everythin for some reason. That''s why I don''t go. But if these men are from the Islands, they wouldn''t care. The Islanders are rough folk.


    "If you''re trying to get us out of here to save your friends'' hides, that isn''t going to work," one man says.


    If you think these kids need savin, then maybe you¡¯re in the wrong, I do not say. ¡°Really, I ain¡¯t even lyin to y¡¯all right now. I¡¯m just warnin you. A bunch of the kids are out right now cause they¡¯re spittin black and cryin gray. You might have better luck somewhere else.¡±


    The tale has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the violation.


    I''m pullin this bull right out of my behind. No kids miss work and, if they''re workin here, that means they weren''t exposed to whatever bugs been goin round the factories in Mayer, unless they''re workin multiple jobs, but our fair Industries prohibit that.


    ¡°Maybe we¡ª¡± the first guy says tentatively.


    ¡°No, we aren¡¯t going to be persuaded out of our own business by some kid,¡± the second man says.


    ¡°I¡¯m just sayin,¡± I say, ¡°the Lime Men got some real good sweet-places with some real nice ladies, and you can get drinks there too for about the same price as here.¡±


    ¡°Aren¡¯t you supposed to be helping your aunt?¡± the second man says.


    ¡°I don¡¯t like her very much, so no.¡±


    ¡°Just give us a price and move, kid.¡±


    I make the prices higher than the average¡ªnot too high or else that¡¯ll look suspicious but just enough to be worth hagglin for. Worst case, they just carry on and pay a little extra. I¡¯ll try to send them to Larry and Drasella cause those two know how to handle themselves pretty well if they¡¯re about to be picked on by some perves. Best case, they get so pissed off at me that they leave and don¡¯t come back and they can¡¯t even blame it on the Mistress too much cause it was her kid nephew that was causin all the problems.


    The men and I go back and forth over the prices. See, I know how to be annoyin. Stubborn. I even raise the pitch of my voice a little so I sound a little more whiny to get their gears grindin.


    ¡°I could beat the shit out of you right now and not even pay,¡± the second decides.


    ¡°If you want to, I¡¯ll take you outside,¡± I say. ¡°I doubt you¡¯d win.¡±


    ¡°Some scrawny kid like you? Nah.¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s not worth the trouble,¡± the first man grumbles, the one that was already wanting to get out of here the second I mentioned smoke-lung. ¡°Let¡¯s go. We could have been in and out of that other one, the one with the cat¡¯s face, in the time it took for you to argue with this boy.¡±


    ¡°I won¡¯t be stood down by some kid.¡±


    ¡°Come on. I¡¯m bored.¡±


    ¡°You go then, you¡ª¡±


    I¡¯m about to argue some more, when Asher steps forward, comin up real close to both the men. I think his hands touch the smalls of their backs. ¡°I was trying to get by to get ready for my shift, but you two were so intriguing. I could offer you a better price than the one that idiot is as long as you don¡¯t tell the Mistress.¡±


    His voice is not his own. The same way he mimicked Seht¡¯s voice, he¡¯s completely changed his tone and intonation and inflection to sound like a girl¡¯s. I realize that, when he¡¯s talkin like this, Asher¡¯s narrow face and long hair makes him seem a bit effeminate.


    ¡°Finally,¡± the second man says, glarin at me but his pupils are already dilatin, ¡°someone with common sense. Where do you suggest we go?¡±


    ¡°There¡¯s an alley out back,¡± Asher whispers. ¡°Come on, you two.¡±


    It¡¯s eerie how it sounds absolutely nothin like him.


    Gifts from the plague range from all sorts of physical abilities. Strong legs, like Ellie-Darlin; a strong body, like Seht; the ability to stretch your own bones, like Vernon. Flynn''s a bit different cause there have been cases of animals comin back from the dead only to interact with plague-ridden peoples. While all the animals were wiped out durin the plague, plants and people remain, just with lessened lifespans. Those rare cases are how most of us learn what animals are. In fact, Flynn''s Purer than the rest of us. Last time he got his soul-checked, we found out he was Innokenti, with less than five percent fracture, and should be livin good in the Fortress. But I ain''t ever met someone that was gifted with such precise control of their voice.


    ¡°You won¡¯t tell on me, will you?¡± Asher asks, lookin at me.


    ¡°I guess not.¡±


    They leave. I raise a brow and whistle to myself. Not what I was expectin at all. I glance out the window, where Asher¡¯s leadin them through the pourin streets and find myself noddin in appreciation. It sounds like a thousand mallets bangin on metal out there.


    ¡°Who is your friend?¡± a soft voice comes from behind me, so soft I almost think I imagine it.


    ¡°That¡¯s Asher,¡± I say. ¡°He¡¯s new.¡±


    The Mistress wears a long dress of white that makes her stand out distinctly from the shadows. She¡¯s taller than you¡¯d think she be based on the sweetness of her voice, which most people tend to associate with short people for some reason. She¡¯s pretty, in the way that she clearly tries to be, the same way that this whole street tries to be, but I know she¡¯s got crazy dark circles and stress-blemishes under all that.


    ¡°Thank you,¡± she says. ¡°Everyone¡¯s been having a hard week, I think. A lot of the Pitters and Lime Men have been dropping by and being¡­ less than civil even though Yaselle has explicitly told them off.¡±


    Again, more conflict between Yaselle¡¯s Bugs and the Fiver Pitters. Since this place is under Yaselle control, more that they¡¯re sponsored than anythin, the Mistress has to give most of her coin to them, which is also how the gangs sort of loop around the fixed prices of the Industry and get a leg up on one another.


    "That''s horrible," I say.


    "They''ll be happy to know you''re here. Seeing Flynn has already brought smiles to ten of my children. You''ll make it twenty."


    "I can make it thirty, watch." I take out the laurel I''d snagged from the woman on the street. It''s a real good laurel, woven of silverleaf and thyme, and can sell in the Underground Market for a good price. The Mistress'' eyes widen in delight. "Not done."


    What the two men that Asher just stole away did not realize was that I''d used the branches that line the floor--similar to the ones I''d sent after the woman--to trifle through the pockets of their extremely long cloaks. That''s why we''d got the seed from Michie in the first place.


    From the two men, I¡¯d gathered the coin they were goin to use to pay here, some foreign lookin leather gloves, some foreign lookin chips, and a foreign lookin metal thing.


    ¡°I don¡¯t know what this last one is,¡± I say.


    ¡°I think it¡¯s a tool they use for building on the Ten Islands,¡± the Mistress says. ¡°Either way, they can be traded in well. Thank you, Asaio.¡±


    She pockets a lot of these things and gives them back to the kids so they can eventually buy themselves out of here from Yaselle¡¯s Bugs.


    At that moment, Asher steps back inside, strugglin to pin the skin coverin of the openin closed against the harsh wind and rain.


    ¡°That¡¯s a horrible storm,¡± the Mistress says as the coverin flies open and nearly whacks Asher in the face. She walks over and takes out one of the metal sheets. She undoes the pin of the skin sheet and attaches the metal one. She whacks it hard with her elbow.


    Asher¡¯s shirt is bloody and he¡¯s pantin a little. One of his cheeks is a bright red and will probably bruise by tomorrow. I didn¡¯t expect him to actually do the men any pleasurable favors, but he doesn¡¯t look as beat up as I thought he¡¯d be either.


    As an explanation, he says, ¡°I shot both of them in their treasured parts.¡±


    I burst out laughin. ¡°Oh, you¡¯re wonderful.¡±


    "That tall man, he kept calling me kid, kid, kid. Just beat up the kid. He probably grew up with brothers, or maybe something like you Garnets and he sat on the bottom rung."


    ¡°What, you a mindreader or somethin?¡±


    He shrugs. I sling my arm around his shoulders and then poke him in the ribs. He flinches but then does the same to me. "You''re weird," I say.


    The Mistress greets Asher and thanks him for gettin those men away. She has us follow her into the backrooms, where Flynn is still talkin to the kids on break. There is a nice restin room, with a few personal cots for the ones that are exhausted, and a lot of carpets and needles and thread, since sewin is a real popular hobby here. Flynn sits on the ground, listenin intently to two of the girls, Priscilla and Mayna.


    Flynn''s everyone''s shrink here, sort of. There are five kids on break right now out of the thirty-two that work, and the other three eye him, vyin for his attention. They grin and greet me too, but they''ve all got a real soft spot for Flynn. When I tell them what Asher did for them, they take a likin to him as well.


    Asher sits to listen in on the conversation Flynn is havin with Priscilla and Mayna while I glance at a few posters that are hung about the room. They''re all hand-drawn with words and a map,


    "What''s this?" I ask.


    "Oh, it''s a fair that''s happening," Gunn answers, a newer addition to The Shaver. He sews in the corner. "A fundraiser for the orphanages."


    "Huh. That''s a first. Are y''all goin?"


    ¡°Can¡¯t. Work.¡±


    ¡°Right.¡±


    We stay there for a long while, just talkin to the kids. Some come and go for different shifts. They talk about recent abhorrent clients, but also about crushes and toys they want to buy and music they''ve been creatin and stories they''ve made up to pass time. When I glance at Asher, I know he gets it. This is how we ''help'' them. Just talkin. Lots and lots of talkin.


    ***


    We show Asher a bit around the City after we leave, several hours later. He''s been here a few Moons, but admits he ain''t left much.


    "What were you doin at Michie''s anyways? Michie said you appeared and asked for work."


    "Helping him plant crop."


    That answer seems much too simple considerin the skillset that Asher is equipped with.


    We point out the orphanages that Ellie-Darlin and Seht help out at. One of the parks we like to visit. Our favorite theater, the Hopscotch, the one that me, Vernon, Ana, and a lot of the other ''original'' Garnets like to help out at or participate in, if we''re able to. All the same religious plays. We head back to the warehouse once the rain gets real bad, but only after a pit-stop for Flynn. He''s always a bit more rejuvenated visitin his friends at the brothels. They calm his nervous, wavy mind.


    ¡°Right there.¡± He walks over to the side of a buildin, a barber¡¯s it seems. The walls are tagged. ¡°Those cracks on the stone? That means this building is made of adobe, and that means it was all imported from Javimoe. And, look, see these markings? That means it was built before the war, since we can¡¯t create such precise lines like this anymore. And because it¡¯s made from adobe and that¡¯s¡ªwell, you know what I mean.¡±


    ¡°I don¡¯t and I don¡¯t get how you keep this in your head,¡± I say.


    ¡°Did you go to school?¡± Asher asks.


    Flynn shrugs noncommittally, cheeks flushed. They talk about different types of housin structures the whole way back, since Asher¡¯s a little more knowledgeable than me.


    When we make it back to the warehouse, the others are already sat around Vernon and Vip and Ana, who are mid-conversation. Asher takes his time to process it all, the messiness, the different rag-tag items we''ve scourged throughout the years, the different faces. I''d asked right before we entered if he wanted to sit on the meetin about Kamon and he said he''d rather just listen in from Flynn''s Hollow. So as soon as they come in, they leave again.


    When I reach the inner circle that''s formed in the center of the warehouse, I take a seat beside Ellie-Darlin and Seht. I would go on braggin about what Asher did, but I can tell everyone''s in serious-discussion mode. "The meetin went well?"


    "We were just about to get into the details," Vernon says.


    "Did you guys pocket anything?" Crimson asks.


    "Priorities," Seht mutters. I rest my head on his shoulder and say, "There, there." He nearly shoves my head into the ground before pullin it back to contact with the crook of his neck.


    "Course," Vernon says, showin us the haul of stolen goods. Simple things: paintbrushes, part of a deskhead, and a jewel for Lahla.


    "Kamon has been watching us," Ana says. "He''s not just rich. He''s of a higher class, Purer, and so the home he''s been granted by the Industry is a larger one."


    ¡°He¡¯s noticed that we look out after Punnet,¡± Vernon says. ¡°Savin Michie sort of, I don¡¯t know, confirmed to him that we¡¯re here to watch out for a while. He said he watched us when we conned those top-head guys, remember? Me, you, Shim, and Uyala? Said it was impressive. He wants to use our anonymity to do... discreet jobs for him."


    "Is he Yevanian?" Ellie-Darlin asks.


    "Nah, actually," Ana says. "He''s a failed entrepreneur from Damaskraga."


    "Failed what now?" I say.


    "From Damaskraga?" Shimmy repeats. "Really?"


    Vernon nods. "Yup."


    Damaskraga''s it''s own country across the ocean. They don''t talk to anyone ever or come to our own kingdom, so we don''t know much about them other than that they exist.


    "Yeah, so he''s got foreign money. The ship that he wants us to hit while the gangs are goin at it is goin to come by in three Moons, around Gerasim''s highest peak. on it, there''s supposed to be some crates from his private company that he started back in Damaskraga," Vernon continues.


    "He started his own company?" Shimmy repeats.


    "Isn''t that illegal?" Crass says. Vernon doesn''t hear her.


    He addresses Shimmy. "Yeah. An entertainment company. So he owns everythin that they make, and they''re tryin to expand out into Mecraentos, except they fired him. That''s why he''s here. What''s comin are parts for some sort of ''saloon'' machine. It''s supposed to be a better version of gasta, a new type of card that''s bein developed in Damaskraga. The normal gamblin games."


    I don''t miss the parallels between this and the gamblin hub that we''d all run with Seran.


    "Is the ship not his own? Why can''t his crew get it?" Shimmy asks.


    "Because," Vernon says, "the ship ain''t his own. They fired him. Failed, remember? We''re stealin stuff from his own business that they kicked him out of."


    "So what do we get out of this?" Crimson asks.


    "Two hundred coin," Ana says.


    Mustletop glances at Genavieve and slaps her knee. "No way."


    "Wow," Kim whispers. "We''d be rich!"


    "Until you realize we have to divide it nearly twenty ways," Shimmy says.


    "Two hundred coin each," Vernon clarifies. "For each person that helps intercept the ship. But we don''t got to be honest about that number."


    "Oh Suns," Seht murmurs. "That''s a lot."


    "We could do so much with that money," Vernon says, as the other Garnets murmur in agreement with Seht. "Think about it."


    "And how will we not be caught by the lickers?" Shimmy challenges.


    "That''s why he''s payin us so much," Vernon says. "It''s a crazy promise, but the ship isn''t supposed to be too big. Yaselle''s Bugs and the PItters should be occupied, they''re actually having a rumble right now, I think--there murmurins goin around by Market Street--so the lickers will be too. And we''ll get half the pay before the job even begins."


    ¡°If he isn¡¯t Industry approved,¡± Genavieve says, ¡°how is he supposed to start up his business here?¡±


    ¡°That¡¯s the thing,¡± Vernon says. ¡°He¡¯ll be doin it illegally, the same way that the Rubies and the Lime Men got their own underground trades. Only, he¡¯ll be usin marketin schemes that worked in Damaskraga.¡±


    I don¡¯t think I¡¯m quite smart enough to understand what¡¯s happenin. I glance up Seht and bite his ear to annoy him. He swats me like a piece of dirt. ¡°Do you get what they¡¯re sayin?¡± I whisper.


    ¡°Sort of. Shut up.¡±


    "He wants to turn Punnet Street into somethin grand," Vernon says. "And he wants us to be a part of that."


    "That is suspicious," Shimmy says. "A bunch of street kids? Really?"


    ¡°He¡¯s been educatin himself on the gangs around. The Rubies, the Lime Men, Yaselle¡¯s Bugs, the Five Pitters, Keidmer¡¯s, the Street Swingers¡ªall them, thinkin he could get one of them under the cause. He actually asked the Street Swingers but they nearly beat him to a pulp. He heard about the Garnets from people around Punnet, and he decided we¡¯d be a good fresh slate.¡±


    ¡°That is still suspicious,¡± Shimmy says.


    ¡°You should¡¯ve come,¡± Ana says.


    ¡°Yes. I should have. We were stupid to not have me there.¡±


    ¡°If we can pull this off,¡± Vip says, ¡°Kamon said that we can work with him to try to get back on our feet again. He¡¯s gonna sponsor us. We work jobs like this for him, get him the stuff he needs to build an underground business. He funnels the funds, he gives us a hefty load and we live¡­ better than this.¡±


    ¡°And,¡± Vernon adds, ¡°he said that if business takes off the way he hopes it does, we can eventually build something personal.¡± His eyes shine. ¡°Like¡­ you know.¡±


    ¡°Oh Suns,¡± Shimmy says. ¡°Vernon, we cannot take care of every kid we see. It¡ªno.¡±


    ¡°I ain¡¯t even said anythin!¡± Vernon says.


    ¡°He¡¯s going to let us¡ªwell, Vernon, because we kinda made it seem like Vernon¡¯s in charge¡ªhave a say in a bunch of the proceedins,¡± Ana says.


    ¡°You guys act as though those things just appear out of nowhere,¡± Shimmy says. ¡°Let me just build my own underground establishment. Let me just start my own gang that can rival the complexity of the Rubies, who have been around for tens and tens of Cycles. That is not how it works. Trust me.


    Shimmy''s from the slum of the slums, Minee. Rumor has it that the place is built on underground transactions, a deep spiderweb of illicit activity that no Industry or lickers could or would ever approve of. It''s just gotten so deep there they can''t monitor it anymore.


    "He has machinery from Damaskraga," Vernon says. "We''ll be ahead of the game. That''s the point. It''s an investment."


    "Are they not all Sunless heathens?" Shis-Aspinova says. She is a quieter sort, the most religious out of us Garnets, and has the least blood on her hands. "In Damaskraga."


    "I heard they lock up men and women who speak out against the regime in Damaskraga," Crimson says.


    Seht says slowly, ¡°He got fired from his old company. The whole reason he¡¯s here. The whole reason he needs us. Because his fellows in Damaskraga do not trust him. What makes you think we should?¡±


    ¡°We don¡¯t have to trust him,¡± Ana says. ¡°He is just an opportunity, a steppin stone.¡±


    ¡°Lahla, what do you think?¡± Shimmy asks. She just shrugs.


    "Well no matter what," Vernon says. "We need money, and we know how to steal stuff. Remember when we conned a whole class of Fortress scholars?" He looks at me in particular.


    Course I remember. It''d been a fun day for Seran and the other dead Garnets. It''d been an elaborate scheme that only Seran could''ve thought of: it all came down to tellin the scholars exactly how we were gonna con them, by plantin fake Underground Market Whispers for their project, and sayin that our own would rob them in the next few Moons if they didn''t listen to sweet-hearted Vernon for betterment. Sometimes people see one evil and assume they can''t be unlucky enough to encounter two.


    After Seran died, we never quite had a scheme like that again. We never quite lived under the name ''The Garnets.'' We simply just stuck together, family holdin us together rather than the money we now no longer make.


    Thing is, that was before different additions to the Garnets appeared. Shis-Aspinova, Ellie-Darlin, Malloo and Mustletop seem apprehensive. Each one has various reserves towards stealin.


    Unlike killin, thievin is often looked down upon by any Moon or Sun. I wasn''t really raised Yevanian, but most of the others were, and the issue of piety and Purity has come up before with things like this. That''s also why things have changed so much since Seran''s death.


    Ana says, ¡°We don¡¯t got to make a decision right now. You all can sleep on it and we vote tomorrow, after we¡¯ve all talked amongst ourselves with somethin this big, okay?¡±


    We all agree to that, especially since it¡¯s startin to get late.


    ¡°Also,¡± Vernon adds. ¡°We have to have a few of us, the ones that don¡¯t want to do this if we decide not to, head to Punnet Street and get those lessons by Michie about how to plant crop. Even if this falls through, that¡¯s useful to learn.¡±


    We talk a bit more about what Kamon was like, what his home was like, but I¡¯m startin to tune out. Ultimately, the decision ain¡¯t gonna really be up to me, and I¡¯m fine with whichever way it swings. Us Garnets are split up into groups a load of the time so I¡¯m excited for an opportunity to do somethin as a collective, as one real giant family.

 Ash and Stone XF - Nadya

    NADYA


    For the pre-Trials, specialized cloaks must be made for each noble child, which was why Missus Yarna had Ponnie and I buy the black feathers. They are elaborate pieces of work that must be designed and started Moons before the Trials. Because the noble children are tested every cycle, they usually have an abundance of cloaks laying about that get more and more intricate. However, Kaki has never cared about such a thing. He says the glamour of the Trials hides its uselessness. He lets me design it. At first, I rejected, but the temptation was too great¨Can indulgent fantasy of mine, so his cloaks are often feminine-looking, but he does not mind.


    So I have decided not to use these feathers Missus Yarna had us buy. I do not want to be reminded of that man.


    Kaki and I sit in the Youth Library. It is smaller than the Library of Kirill, but we are not permitted there. It¡¯s about three times the size of Kaki¡¯s chamber and located in the Iya Wing, with ornate windows and lots of candles. There are only four tables since, as this place is sectioned off only for the noble children, there is no need for any more than that. No other servants are here. The noble children give me odd glances because my class is not permitted to read but are reassured when they see the skins on my lap and the needles in my hand, far away from their wordy texts. I would not do such a thing anyways. Because I am associated with Kaki, I am often associated with his faithlessness. This worries me sometimes, but I enjoy Kaki¡¯s company too much to mind.


    Kaki sits across from me, staring blankly at the text of histories that will be required of him at the Trials.


    ¡°At least try to focus,¡± I say.


    Kaki remains silent. He is adamant that the subject of history in general is severely lacking in ¡®substance¡¯ and his tutor, Enlightened Alranath can ¡®only mediocrely describe the War that he himself fought in. Do you not see what is wrong with that, Nadya?¡¯


    The flier is still in my chamber. I have yet to give it to Kaki. That man¡¯s lover taught herself to read and write. I am sure Kaki knows blasphemous sorts of peoples, and the thought of it sickens me. If he found out about this woman¨CI¡¯ve already forgotten her name¨Che would probably spend the next few Moons sneaking around, asking himself why she did it and what she learned until the festival rolled around. Incriminating himself.


    Kaki is Pure but unEnlightened. But some call him Soulless, for they say that he is only untouched by the plague because he was not supposed to be in this world in the first place, that the Suns rejected him long before his creation and still he miraculously survived.


    He and I both hate this particular rumor, but Kaki is faithless. Only the Tyn are faithless. And he encourages others in the City, I know it. He may even believe himself righteous for seeking illegal and immoral scholars in the City.


    No, I know he does not think that. Kaki does not ever believe himself righteous, but he was always treated as the exception. He must realize that most will never be the outlier, the Savior, the Prophet, or the subject of various cults. The rest of us must live our lives according to the ideals we were raised, for that is all we can count on.


    ¡°Nadya?¡± Kaki says. ¡°Are you alright?¡±


    I realize I am squeezing my needles too tight in my palms. ¡°Yes, sorry.¡±


    ¡°You know, we are sort of the same now.¡±


    ¡°What?¡±


    He gestures at his burnt arms, then his cheeks. They have healed a bit in the few Moons we have been resting, but they are still crimson and prominent. And he does not cover them up. ¡°We sort of match, don¡¯t we?¡±


    I go red. I realized this long before him. After I got done worrying about his being hurt, those couple Moons ago, I¡¯d come back to his chamber and overheard a few of the other servants calling us ¡®kindled kin.¡¯ But they were laughing, and I can only imagine what they thought. That he looks just as demented as I, that the burns were punishment for his Soullessness. If that is true, what are mine the punishment of?


    ¡°I suppose.¡±


    ¡°You really shouldn¡¯t be so self-conscious of your face, Nadya. It adds¡­ character.¡± He smiles, as though he truly believes that was a compliment.


    ¡°Don¡¯t sound so demeaning.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m not! I¡¯m being serious.¡±


    I shake my head. ¡°You wouldn¡¯t get it.¡±


    ¡°I have burns now too, see? It¡¯s not so bad.¡±


    ¡°You are such a boy.¡±


    ¡°You always say that and I don¡¯t get why.¡±


    ¡°Well, see, then you don¡¯t understand.¡±


    ¡°I just said I don¡¯t.¡±


    ¡°Shouldn¡¯t you be studying for your big, important Trials? You¡¯re bothering me.¡±


    ¡°Well, you¡¯re bothering me. Bother, bother, bother, all from that side of the table.¡±


    We go back and forth for a little while when the doors to the library swing open. I don¡¯t even notice Lightened Roe approaching us until she is right beside our table. She wears a beautiful lacy frock of brown skin and weaved flowers, her hair done up, and weaved bracelets around her wrist.


    I shut up and glance down at my cloak and needles, while Kaki waves slightly. ¡°Uh, hi?¡±


    I kick him from beneath the table. ¡°Hi, Lightened,¡± he adjusts. He raises his palm to his forehead in greeting. ¡°What are you doing¡­ standing there¡­ by me?¡±


    Suns.


    I expect Lightened Roe to laugh like she did when I spoke to her but, instead, her lips part and her face glimmers with confusion and disgust and she stares down Kaki. She glances at me for a second before her gaze flitters back to him. ¡°I just wanted to let you know that my next recital is today, at Kirill¡¯s highest peak.¡±


    ¡°Okay,¡± Kaki says blankly. ¡°Thanks?¡±


    Her eyes fall to me again. ¡°Would you not like to come see it?¡±


    ¡°No?¡±


    ¡°Well¡­ alright,¡± she says. ¡°Bye, Lightened. Bye, Nadya.¡±


    However, she does not leave. She just sits on the other side of the library, not quite far enough to keep her from seeing my head hang in embarrassment.


    Kaki snorts. ¡°That was weird,¡± he says, somehow unaware of the fact that he speaks so loudly she can still hear him, despite all his smarts.


    ¡°Yeah.¡±


    ¡°You¡¯re acting weird.¡± Kaki sets down his book, one with many, many firey words.


    I hesitate. This is much more embarrassing than it should be. ¡°I mean¡­ I like music. I really do, and I don¡¯t often get to hear much and, earlier, she asked if we wanted to listen to one of her recitals but I was not sure if you would want to, but the music is so lovely and¨Cyeah. I¡¯ve been wanting to go. I suppose.¡±


    Kaki¡¯s brows raise. ¡°Okay. Sure, let¡¯s go.¡±


    ¡°Really? I don¡¯t want you to be uncomfortable or¨C¡±


    Kaki scoffs. ¡°Have I given you the impression that I dislike music? No, music is relaxing. Not really my thing, but relaxing. You should have just asked me.¡±


    ¡°No, I mean uncomfortable around the other noble children.¡±


    ¡°I truly do not care about them, Nadya.¡± He still has not lowered his voice to a whisper, like I have. ¡°They care more about me than I them.¡±


    ¡°Yes, but¨C¡±


    ¡°We will be going at Kirill¡¯s highest peak,¡± he says, in a very declaratory style. Quite literally everyone stares at us and whisper amongst themselves. We are disturbing the peace. Lightened Roe smiles at me after hearing his words and I look away. ¡°Okay, Nadya?¡±


    ¡°Okay.¡±


    ¡°But now that means you have to listen to me talk about the workings of the plague, and it¡¯s¡ªwhat was it? Effects on the current state of Mecraenton society.¡± A common question at the Trials.


    ¡°Nevermind, I revoke my request. Please, spare me.¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s okay. This is horrendously boring to me too.¡± He leans in close, too close. So that our noses are almost touching. I pull away quickly. Touches of those in different states of their Purity is not prohibited, but it is seen as weird unless you are a lover, but Kaki could never be my lover. Love is too indulgent of a word for me to ever spare on Kaki. Many Ospry do not find lovers.


    It is also a personal philosophy¡ªfriendship does not have to be physical. You can abstain from giving yourself over completely to someone while sharing minds.


    ¡°What are you¨C¡°


    ¡°Especially because my books are so much more interesting,¡± he whispers into my ear. ¡°Var-Nashi¡¯s diary, I think she was talking about a plague¨CI don¡¯t know, a plague prototype? And¨C¡°


    ¡°Kaki. Not here. Everyone can hear you.¡±


    ¡°Right. Sorry. Keep sewing, Miss Nadya.¡±


    I roll my eyes as he goes back to staring at his book, completely uncomprehending of anything it contains.


    ***


    ¡°No,¡± I say. ¡°No, no, no, Suns. Kaki! Why do you even have that?¡±


    I try to be serious, keep my face straight, but doing so ends up backfiring and I snort quite loudly as Kaki pulls out a frilly blue dress from his wardrobe and presses it against his chest, swaying a little to test the flowyness.


    ¡°I was curious how girls dresses fit,¡± Kaki says. ¡°It¡¯s not that weird. I have many questions and I seek to answer them.¡±


    ¡°Kaki!¡± I laugh. ¡°That did not answer my question.¡±


    ¡°Questions about the weather. Questions about why the other boys act like girls are some Sun-sent miracle, no offense. Questions about¡ªoh wait! Can I tell you about the prototype plague?¡±


    ¡°Yes, but I am not wearing that.¡±


    Stolen content alert: this content belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences.


    ¡°Why? It¡¯s nice.¡±


    ¡°You know why, Kaki.¡±


    ¡°Suns, Nadya, letting yourself have nice things does not mean you are vain or¨C¡°


    ¡°Kaki.¡±


    ¡°Come on, Nadya, it¡¯s a recital. You have to look pretty.¡± I ignore the implication that he does not think I¡¯m pretty.


    ¡°No, Kaki. we barely got Missus Yarna to let me accompany you. If she found out I was wearing some other girl¡¯s dress¨C¡±


    ¡°Well, we did not have to tell Missus Yarna you were going at all.¡±


    Missus Yarna, of course, did not like the idea and for good reason. She¡¯d been told of my fasting, but fasting is not simply abstaining from food. It is abstaining from what is not necessary.


    I told Kaki this and, somehow, he convinced me to cave. He always does. I cannot say ¡®no¡¯ to him and he cannot say ¡®no¡¯ to me, therefore we encourage each other whims no matter how illogical it may be.


    Missus Yarna knew this would happen, but she''s put up with this for cycles. She just stared at me in disgust and said, "Nadya. I cannot disrespect the demands of the nephew of Enlightened Everleigh, and I know whatever he wants from you he will demand. But know that he holds you back from your Purest and it is unfortunate to watch. Do not compromise your morals for a boy. Be smart, Nadya."


    I know. I know.


    ¡°I know that face,¡± Kaki says. He puts away the dress. ¡°You¡¯re okay, Nadya. You¡¯re allowed to have wants, okay? And Lightened Roe invited you. Not me. Okay?¡±


    ¡°Okay.¡±


    ¡°I don¡¯t get what really sets us apart,¡± he says. ¡°I cannot see that you are less Pure than me. Our minds are the same aren¡¯t they?¡±


    ¡°For now. But then my veins will turn black and my eyes will become bloodshot and I will want to tear your arm from your shoulder. You will be more useful to society for far longer than I.¡±


    ¡°That is anything but true.¡± He puts on one of his formal tunics and takes out his pants to be straightened up. I just watch. ¡°Anyways, the prototype plague? I mean, it¡¯s just a hunch. Based on small details in the text, like the way that she describes the hospital residents. They aren¡¯t rabid, per se, but they are ¡®increasingly hungry and thirsty for unusual meals¡¯ like¡­ I don¡¯t know what this is but it was called voltaisa. Maybe that was human meat?¡±


    ¡°You¡¯re cherry picking,¡± I say.


    ¡°A little,¡± he admits.


    I glance out the window. Kirill is nearly risen. ¡°Well be late. Sit down. I¡¯ll do your hair and we go.¡±


    ***


    There are multiple theaters in the Fortress, but the Iya Theater is one I have never attended. I have only ever been to the Theater of Ospry and that was only once as a birthday gift from Missus Yarna.


    I would not be permitted there on my own, for the productions in the Iya Theater are only to be seen by other people of the Iya class. The topics of their productions are often seen as ¡®too sophisticated¡¯ or ¡®sensitive¡¯ for minds such as my own. However, recitals are public and unpolished, held in the General Outdoor Theater, and happen much more frequently. Anyone of any Purity can enjoy the arts, but if certain members of certain classes are found frequenting these recitals too often, they will be barred away. This is why I typically do not attend.


    Even though it is a General Theater, is it grand. The stage is the same large wooden platform used for the Trials and other events, rolled out by various servants, the back of it coupled with various handiworkings for special events. Large velvet curtains hang from rusting metal poles¨Cvelvet is a lost import from Damaskraga, from before the War and when they closed their borders to us forever. Kirill¡¯s bright rays illuminate the place through crystalized light filters.


    Kaki and I take a seat in the bleachers, carved from the ground up. We make sure we situate ourselves in the back.


    ¡°You see that little-mini-roof thing?¡± Kaki whispers. ¡°There are vents there. They let in the rays of Kirill and Gerasim with crystal orbs that can be controlled from ropes and pedals at the back of the stage there, filtering the light at certain angles, kind of like what happens in the Temples. So you can have lights on one dancer or actor or singer, you see?¡±


    I nod as I process the surprised faces of children and adults, noble or otherwise, at seeing us here. Even in the back, I can hear the whispers.


    ¡°Are they lovers finally? Look at the way he leans into her¡­.¡±


    ¡°That¡¯s not allowed. Isn¡¯t her Soul really fractured? She¡¯ll Turn and kill him.¡±


    ¡°Yoria doesn¡¯t think so.¡±


    ¡°Yoria just sits there, unthinking, all the time.¡±


    ¡°Did you see his burns? They¡¯re horrible.¡±


    ¡°He was supposed to be cleansed.¡±


    ¡°Still horrible.¡±


    ¡°They look like hers.¡±


    The lights brighten suddenly, the crystals turned away so that all the rays of the Suns point to the center stage. There are to be four today. A song by Barl, a monologue by Shenani, a dance by Chrysan and her ¡®Company¡¯, and a song by Roe.


    Lightened Barl plays some sort of drum with a red rim and sings a hypnotic, lullabatic song. It immediately lures me in, the rhythm feeling slightly out-of-sync to his voice, but intentionally so. I find myself leaning forward. And, to my surprise, so does Kaki.


    When it is down, there is a round of light applause. ¡°Thought this wasn¡¯t your thing?¡±


    ¡°Nothing is ¡®not my thing,¡¯¡± he says. ¡°Thinking you have to have a thing closes your mind up to many possibilities.¡± He speaks slowly and deliberately, like I am much younger than him.


    ¡°You hypocrite.¡±


    He smirks. ¡°I know.¡±


    Lightened Shenani is equally as enjoyable, a monologue about a strained relationship between a mother and her daughter. Kaki wonders if she wrote it and if it is autobiographical. I could ask Walas, for Lightened Shenani is his master.


    There is a brief intermission and then the stage is set up for Lightened Chrysan and her company¨CInnokenti children, almost noble, that study in dance and choreography. A group of about twenty with Lightened Chrysan, of course, in the center. In the corner, there is another girl playing a lyre as their accompaniment.


    The scene opens with five of the dancers lying in various twisted positions on the stage, their arms and legs spread at unnatural angles. A few stand behind them, hunched and clutching their stomachs. They wear rags not so dissimilar from the frocks I am allowed. Their hair is matted, their faces painted with fake grease.


    Kaki says, ¡°Hm. Interesting set-up.¡±


    ¡°Shhh.¡±


    The lyre-players begins, a soft melody.


    The dancers who are hunched stutter to life, moving rigidly and moaning, like they are in a lot of pain. The ones on the floor squirm and spasm, each clenching and unclenching their hands in a very specific pattern. This goes on for a little bit, as the lyre begins to increase in volume and tempo towards a dramatic pause. One of the dancers on the floor spasms more than the others. Melodically, but very visibly. She does a spin or something to get to her feet. Her jerky moves are almost too realistic as she claws at her own skin, twitching to the ever-accelerating lyre.


    Then she lets out a scream. From offstage, another girl runs in with a bucket of blood and pours it over her head. I let out a gasp with many other members of the audience.


    She claws at her fellow dancers, who I now realize must be the people of the Tyn class, the lowest of the low.


    The plot soon becomes clear.


    The plague takes the first girl violently. Her Turn results in the death of another, a depiction that I am sure is more graphic when it is polished for performance, but left to interpretation for this recital. She is shackled, as is customary, but not sent to any Butcher. The poor Tyn ravage on her like savages. They do not send her to the Slaughter House to have her skin and organs be cleaned as proper, do not let the Fathers within the Slaughter Houses bless her Soul, but feast on her right then. My fasting stomach churns.


    The authorities then come to take care of the situation, offering the starving free rations from one of the Shops, a gesture deeply appreciated by the Tyn. The authorities and the Tyn bond through beautiful duets, but the focus is especially on one authority, portrayed by Lightened Chrysan, and a Tyn girl. It¡¯s clear they are supposed to have more going on between them.


    A solo dance progresses their relationship, leading to them eventually near-kissing on stage, much to the disgruntlement of many of the adults in the audience.


    But then the Tyn girl goes back to her friends, praying to Gerasim and Kirill that their Souls be Pure so they may be given better opportunities. Lightened Chrysan sneaks out to see this Tyn girl often, once bringing a silverleaf laurel with her, indicating her hope to marry her. I squirm uncomfortably at this section, not missing the two glances that are thrown towards me and Kaki.


    She refuses Lightened Chrysan¡¯s plea for marriage and departs the stage. The Tyn peasants, the lover¡¯s friends, come up with a plan to kidnap her without the lover¡¯s knowing. They fail to do so for their lack of wits and foresight in a section of two separate dances, leaving Lightened Chrysan beaten down and crying while they just barely keep themselves from succumbing to their animalisitc, plague urges. Lightened Chrysan has a very good face of despair.


    The performance shifts to show the perspective of the Tyn, a dance of the collective, depicting them as hopeless and feeling as though abandoned by Gerasim and Kirill.


    Even if they are they bad guys, you cannot help but feel bad for them.


    Eventually Lightened Chrysan¡¯s lover returns but it is clear that the plague is getting to her. She tries to find Lightened Chrysan, to spend her last moments with the other girl, but she is gone, terrified of the other Tyn. So the lover ravages with her friends once more, but it is all the more dreadful. I wonder if Slaughter Houses exist in this false world.


    Lightened Chrysan comes back to the Tyn, asking for her lover after a dance of self-reflection. When it is clear she¡¯d died, she cries and decides to forgive the Tyn for their sins, for their near abuse of her. She builds them their own homes and helps them do favors for Gerasim and Kirill, helps elevate their standard of living.


    It ends with her on her own, dancing the same dance she did with the Tyn boy, all alone.


    The lights dim and the curtains close.


    The performance is long. I do not know how long, but tears are shed by the end, whispering to each other about its elegance and its message.


    ¡°Wow,¡± I say.


    ¡°Wow,¡± Kaki repeats, his voice a little strained.


    ¡°That was beautiful,¡± I say. ¡°Really, really beautiful. I did not know you could tell stories like that through dance.¡±


    ¡°Yeah.¡±


    Someone announces that there is to be another intermission before Lightened Roe¡¯s performance, given the length of Chrysan¡¯s.


    ¡°Wow,¡± I repeat. ¡°The blood¡ªthat was shocking. And, wow. I don¡¯t know.¡±


    ¡°Yeah.¡±


    ¡°Did you not like it?¡±


    ¡°I liked it, I just¡­ I don¡¯t know. I think it was told from the perspective of someone who has never seen the people in Mecraentos City before.¡±


    ¡°What do you mean, Mecraentos City?¡±


    He frowns and gestures vaguely at the stage. ¡°The poor.¡±


    ¡°Those were the Tyn.¡±


    ¡°Well, sure they could be, but all lower classes live in Mecarentos City. How do you know those were the Tyn specifically?¡±


    ¡°I don¡¯t, I suppose.¡±


    ¡°They seemed like monsters,¡± Kaki whispers.


    I wait until he looks me directly in the eyes. ¡°I do not think she depicted them as monsters. They were anything but, actually. The Tyn dance, the one where they were all falling to the feet of Gerasim and Kirill. They were looking for retribution.¡±


    ¡°I guess that¡¯s accurate,¡± Kaki says. He runs a hand through the hair I worked so hard to keep back. It curls messily. ¡°But, I don¡¯t know. And the way they ate¨Cwell, I suppose they do that but¨C¡±


    ¡°You¡¯ve seen that ravaging happen?¡±


    ¡°Sort of,¡± he says, ¡°but it¡¯s not that disgusting, like it was shown here. It¡¯s just said. And it¡¯s hard to pinpoint why because they do have people like the authorities to rely on and they do have farms and stores that will provide them rations. I don¡¯t know. It¡¯s a complicated thing I¡¯m feeling.¡±


    I just nod. I know I do not truly understand.


    ¡°Nadya, I really want to tell you about the City. I tell you everything but not that, because I can tell you get uncomfortable, but I really think if you want to learn anything you have to face the uncomfortable. You have to ask the uncomfortable. People look at me and they want to learn about me because I make them uncomfortable, so they ask me uncomfortable questions and do uncomfortable things, but it is all to learn. That¡¯s why I cannot truly be mad at people like the Father and Lightened woman from Sal Gasve.¡±


    ¡°I suppose.¡±


    I¡¯m silent for a long while. I have long known of this philosophy of Kaki¡¯s, but his words carry a weight they do not usually today.


    Something falters within me. With each person that tries to ascend Kaki into Enlightenment, as he is supposed to, I wonder how that contradicts that prophecy that says there can only be three. Maybe we are all curious what will happen to the current Enlighteneds if Kaki were to ascend. The uncomfortable realization that we do not know, that to even think of the consequences of any of us truly achieving Purity is hypocritical. We cannot all be Pure.


    I¡¯ve not thought that before. I¡¯ve not let myself.


    I think about the flier back in my chamber, the festival for the orphaned children. How they would feel if this were a performance put on for a celebration of their own.


    I don¡¯t know.


    Kaki is not encouraging blasphemy. Well, he is. But not really.


    ¡°I doubt Chrysan meant to depict anything as wrong or insensitive,¡± Kaki says. ¡°What counts as wrong or insensitive, anyways? Who decides such fickle words? Is that not all subjective?¡±


    I think not about the performance I¡¯m about to watch for Lightened Roe, but the burns marks on my face, the ones reflected in Kaki. If I had not been saved and brought to the Fortress, I could have been one of the Tyn children that Lightened Chrysan depicted.


    But is that not a reason to cherish the life I have now, to not taint it with what ifs? What if I¡¯d grown up an orphan in the City? What if Kaki realizes I am his servant and not his friend and lets me go? What if I had been born a beautiful noble girl, born to dance and play the lyre? What if all my life becomes is the one I was born into, the one that is predicted of an Ospry servant? What if these walls suffocate me, one day? What if I die here, with Kaki or without, never having ventured out once.


    ¡°There¡¯s something I have to tell you,¡± I say. ¡°There is a festival happening in the City. It is called the Fyi Festival.¡± And I tell him about the man selling feathers on his carriage and the woman who taught herself to read.


    I expect him to be upset at me for not telling him sooner, but he isn¡¯t. It almost seems silly that I think he will be upset when I can¡¯t actually recall him ever being upset at me or anyone except for Enlightened Everleigh, and even then it is never true anger. He just asks why and nods at my explanation.


    ¡°Do you want to go?¡± he ventures. "It could be a means of going to the City without having to sneak around."


    ¡°I don¡¯t know,¡± I say. ¡°I don¡¯t know how I¡¯m feeling either.¡±


    ¡°That¡¯s okay.¡±


    ¡°Missus Yarna wouldn¡¯t be happy.¡±


    ¡°She won¡¯t,¡± he agrees. ¡°But she has long since given up on trying to separate us. I¡¯m here for you, Nadya, whatever you decide. I will probably go to the Festival myself, you know.¡±


    ¡°I know. You are predictable, Kaki.¡±


    ***

 Ash and Stone XS - Nadya

    NADYA


    Kaki and I depart after Lightened Roe''s performance. She tried to talk to Kaki and I a little bit, but was just as awkward as her invitation in the library had been, and we all gave up at fruitful conversation.


    Her performance was wonderful--a jolly jig on her wind-pipe, but was very much overshadowed by Lightened Chrysan.


    We all filter out into the courtyard. Kaki and I mostly wander in silence, which does not happen often. We make our way back to Gerasim''s wing, towards Kaki''s chamber, when we hear a crash and a sudden amount of yelling.


    We turn the corner.


    Miss Gennadi crouches on the ground as a glass suddenly shatters at her feet. I freeze and Kaki places an arm out in front of me, stepping forward, just around the corner. ¡°What¡ª¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m sorry,¡± she whispers, ¡°I¡¯m sorry, I¡¯m sorry¡ª¡±


    I recognize the two women that stand before Miss Gennadi. They are of high class, but not noble. They do not have a position in the Courts nor noble children, so I do not know their names, but they frequent the courtyard enough. They wear expensive dreams and elaborate braids. The woman to the right has sharp features. Her arm bleeds and looks to have been cut by the glass scattered all over the ground. There is a tray in arms reach and a strange white liquid covers the floor.


    I have seen acts of unkindness, shameful things. The ''Pure'' noble children once teased Kai, but the worst of their ''pranks'' left him beaten down and broken, though this stopped a few cycles ago. I thought it to be a phase of youth, for even the other servant children can be shameful towards each other. Adults are nothing but civil.


    So I gasp just as I did during the play when one of the women suddenly kicks her heel into Miss Gennadi¡¯s stomach. The action is not aggressive. It is almost¡­ gentle. A slow grinding of the foot into her sternum.


    "Gennadi. Every day I see your face and I cannot stand it. Enlightened Everleigh has forgotten who you are, but the rest of us have not. Can not. You Red Bird."


    ¡°Do not call me that,¡± Miss Gennadi hisses. ¡°Do not call me that.¡±


    The second woman is short and stubby and much older. Thick black growths protrude from the side of her head. When Miss Gennadi tries to stand, the second woman says something so foul that we are all left in shock and Miss Gennadi sits herself down.


    Kaki turns the corner. I try to grab him, but it¡¯s too late. ¡°Hey! What are you doing?¡± he demands.


    I expect the women to shy down, to blush in shame. They do not. They stare at him with a ferociousness that stuns me. I step forward, grabbing Kaki¡¯s arm. I feel the sudden urge to run. My plague-gift runs through my veins, my legs growing stronger, and I turn him around.


    Before we can make a break for it, we crash into a figure. Upon seeing who it is, I squeak.


    Enlightened Everleigh appears with Enlightened Daniya. The sound of a chamber door closing a few legs away echoes through the hallway.


    Enlightened Daniya is someone I have seen even less than Enlightened Alranath. She hardly ever leaves her chamber is is said to no longer speak unless it is to another Enlightened. She is the near opposite of white-haired, white-eyed Enlightened Everleigh. She has no hair and her dark skin only emphasizes the brightness of her blue eyes. She wears a nightgown, covering every part of arms and legs and juvenielle in its quality. There is nothing noble about her except for the way she holds herself.


    The author''s narrative has been misappropriated; report any instances of this story on Amazon.


    ¡°Kani?¡± Enlightened Everleigh says. Her voice sounds as distant as ever. ¡°Arella? What are you doing?¡±


    ¡°Nothing, Enlightened,¡± one woman says. The second finally looks away, unable to bring herself to words.


    ¡°You look so old,¡± Enlightened Everleigh murmurs after a moment¡¯s pause.


    They exchange a glance. I do not like the way their eyes glimmer. ¡°Yes. We are getting up there in cycles. Please, excuse us.¡±


    They move past the Enlighteneds, not even daring to take a second glance at Kaki. Did I imagine that burning hatred?


    ¡°Okay,¡± Enlightened Everleigh says. ¡°Goodbye.¡±


    Enlightened Daniya stares at the back wall, unmoving.


    Kaki is already hurried from my side, kneeling down to help Miss Gennadi up. I follow, but Enlightened Evelrigh beats me to it, moving faster than I have ever seen her move.


    She nearly shoves Kaki away in order to embrace Miss Gennadi. It is an intimate embrace, not the embrace of an Enlightened, the most revered of us all, and her personal servant. She squeezes Miss Gennadi¡¯s back and shoves her face into the crook over the other woman¡¯s neck, breathing deeply. Kaki stands, wide-eyed, his hands out in front of him as though he cannot will them to move.


    ¡°Stop,¡± Miss Gennadi whispers. ¡°Stop, stop, stop¡ª¡±


    ¡°Gennadi,¡± Enlightened Everleigh says.


    ¡°Stop!¡± Miss Gennadi yells suddenly, clawing at the Enlightened¡¯s back. ¡°Get off me, Leigha!¡±


    ¡°Gennadi, I love you. I¡¯m sorry they hurt you. I won¡¯t let them again.¡± She almost sounds childish.


    Kaki looks over at me, mouthing, what? I do not think my brain even comprehends what is happening.


    MIss Gennadi shoves the Enlightened to the ground, shoving her palm on the other woman¡¯s forehead and dragging it down at an extreme force and speed. She shoved an Enlightened into the ground. Sweet-hearted Miss Gennadi. Enlightened Everleigh reacts even faster. She catches Miss Gennadi¡¯s hand when it comes and throws the other woman over her shoulder, so they both roll to the ground in a heap. Enlightened Everleigh grips Miss Gennadi by one of the black spots on her arms. The blonde-woman screeches in pain.


    I step away, murmuring a Prayer beneath my breath. I grab at Kaki¡¯s sleeve and then release it, a tingling, warning sensation coming through my fingers.


    Miss Gennadi scrambles to her feet. ¡°Do not touch me. You sicken me, both of you.¡± Enlightened Daniya does not react. ¡°All of your cycles of cruelty could never-could never bring back¡ª¡±


    She breaks off, crying. Not deep, ugly sobs. Silent ones. So silent it is eerie. She falls to her knees, right into Enlightened Everleigh¡¯s arms.


    I feel Kaki¡¯s hand slip into mine. A part of me registers the distaste I have for the touch and the dread that courses in me as my Soul fractures, but the rest is too shocked to understand what is going on.


    ¡°Come on, Nadya,¡± Kaki says.


    This feels incredibly disconnected from the moment we had at the theater, as though we have just gotten another show.


    ***


    I lay on my own cot, staring at the flyer for the Fyi Festival. Ponnie and Chi-Chi went with Walas and a few of the other servant children to watch the Moons dance. They begged me to join them, but I told them I was too weary and tired to do so¡ªnormally, this would be a lie, as Kaki never has me do much actual servitude for him, but we¡¯d spent the rest of the Moon coming up with theories about Miss Gennadi and trying to speak with her, but she denied us entry to her chamber.


    The rain drums against the side of the Fortress walls. I realize, though, these walls are thick enough to keep from ever truly hearing the rain. I place my hand against the side that my cot attaches to, as though I¡¯d be able to feel the Suns¡¯ warnings through the stone.


    Do I deserve to burn for simply staring at this paper? I think. Kaki finds my worries silly, but that is because you protected his Purity at birth.


    A horrible thought comes: Why did you protect Kaki¡¯s Purity at birth? What has he done to be worthy that I have not?


    It is selfish of me and I immediately repent. These are not the thoughts of a good friend.


    Give me a sign, I think. Give me a reason to leave this place for one Moon or give me a reason to stay.


    With my Prayer, I tap along to the beat of the rain, for Kirill is a lover of all things musical. I keep my eyes closed for Gerasim, who was blind in His physical life.


    I reach below my cot. There, I kept the basket of black feathers bought from the man. I remember what he said, that his wife had been sent to the Slaughter Houses, and this festival is to help the orphan children of the City. But if it is to help people, why not go to the authorities or one of the Industries to put it on? Why share the word with illegal papers written by blashphemous scribes?


    It is the job of the Industry of Classes to know the City¡¯s citizens, monitor what the people need, and figure out the best possible way to provide such things. Why not go to them?


    I click a rhythm for Kirill once more, eyes shut.


    You Both preach to not be indulgent, and I know I have failed You Both in that. You Both preach servitude first to You Both and then to my charge, and I know I am currently failing You Both in that. But does this mean I should keep a blind eye to all that reject Your teachings, reject their place in society, reject the careful order of Our religion even if they are people too? Or if they ignore our teachings to do what they believe is right? And what of Kaki? If the answer to the previous question is ¡®yes¡¯, does this mean I should keep away from him for he is not a believer? If he were not Pure he would have been like that woman who taught herself to read, I know it. He would sacrifice our teachings for knowledge that is clearly being hidden from him for a reason.


    Why is it so hard to put in action who I must serve first when the path is so incredibly clear?


    Give me a sign.


    It is only after more long, tedious moments of contemplation that I realize the rain¡¯s stopped.

 Ash and Stone XIF - Asaio

    ASAIO


    We vote the next Moon, after we¡¯ve all talked bout the job with our various cliques and slept on it.


    Flynn had come back to the warehouse alone yesterday. He said that Asher went back to Michie and Madge, to make sure they were doin alright in the storm. After we told Flynn bout the job for Kamon, he immediately ¡®decreed¡¯ the idea was horrible.


    I wanna do it. It¡¯d be the first real risk we take since Seran¡¯s death. Seht and Ellie-Darlin are waitin to see what the majority votes.


    We sit in our circle of Garnets. Mustletop and Genavieve cut up some of the vegetables from Michie, slicin them with real good quality knives that Seran and I stole a couple cycles back. Seht, Ellie-Darlin, Flynn, and I decided to divide the crop evenly between the Garnets after all.


    ¡°Okay,¡± Ana says, gnawin on a yellow vegetable with just a bit of plague at its root. ¡°Is there any more discussion that needs to be had, questions that need to be answered, concerns? Or are we okay?¡±


    ¡°There are always questions and concerns that go answered,¡± Shimmy says.


    ¡°Thank you, but that was neither a question or a concern,¡± Seht says as he braids Uyala¡¯s hair, since he finished up with Ellie-Darlin¡¯s. I snort and Shimmy slaps his knee in laughter.


    ¡°I don¡¯t trust a Damaskragan man,¡± Shis-Aspinova says. Her unsaid words remain heavy cause they¡¯d already been spoken the Moon prior. Thievin ain¡¯t somethin she¡¯s ever been comfortable with. She¡¯s fun to hang around, and we all respect her boundaries, but she¡¯s always got more reservations when it comes to stuff like this¨Cshe probably wouldn¡¯t have joined us if she¡¯d met us still under Seran¡¯s reign.


    ¡°What if he¡¯s not really just an entrepreneur,¡± Crimson says, ¡°but a wealthy man that escaped the bowels of prison?¡±


    ¡°How romantic,¡± Seht says dryly.


    ¡°A bowl?¡± I say. ¡°Ain¡¯t no way their prisons are shaped like bowls.¡±


    ¡°No,¡± Flynn says with a small shake of his head. His snakes chortle at me. ¡°Asaio¨C¡±


    ¡°And what if he¡¯s really on the run, and we¡¯re about to get in trouble with the Damaskragan authorities by just associating with him?¡± Crimson continues. ¡°What if we get those posters, the ones that you get when you¡¯re wanted for coin?¡±


    The thing is, Shimmy¡¯s the storyteller, but those stories are always entertainin, whimsical fantasies. Crimson¡¯s just a bit paranoid¨Che always believes what he¡¯s sayin. Crimson can¡¯t lie.


    ¡°That sounds horrible,¡± Shis says.


    ¡°We¡¯ll go and be sent to the Slaughter Houses,¡± Seht says.


    ¡°It ain¡¯t so bad, really,¡± I say with a laugh. Ellie-Darlin just smiles ruefully at me.


    ¡°Guys, really,¡± Vernon interjects. ¡°I doubt Kamon is someone like that. If he were, then the bug lickers would¡¯ve gotten to him. Remember. We need opportunities. We need connections to survive. What about when Michie finally goes? How many more bodies can we steal off the streets without one of us being caught again?How many Garnets are we willing to lose to the lickers, over and over?¡±


    Lahla kisses Vernon on the cheek. ¡°I still don¡¯t like it.¡±


    ¡°I know, love.¡±


    Vip sighs. ¡°I hate to say it, but we need adults that can front for us. We¡¯re just kids.¡±


    ¡°Yeah, you¡¯re always wanting adult supervision,¡± Crimson says.


    Vip shrugs. ¡°What¡¯s wrong with that?¡±


    ¡°We¡¯re doin real good for just kids, though,¡± Vernon says. ¡°Don¡¯t you doubt that. We¡¯re the best group of kids.¡±


    ¡°Romantic,¡± Seht whispers to me.


    ¡°Whimsy,¡± I whisper back.


    ¡°Kimsy,¡± he says. I laugh.


    ¡°Okay,¡± Ana says. ¡°All who are in favor of doing the job for Kamon raise your hand.¡±


    Vernon, Vip, Ana, Kim, Crass, Mustletop, Genavieve, Crimson¨Cto everyone¡¯s surprise, Uyala, and Ellie-Darlin raise their hands.


    Flynn, Lahla, Shimmy, Shis-Aspinova, Malloo, and Seht do not.


    Upon seein Seht keep his hand down, Uyala¡¯s goes down too.


    The lack of a unanimous decision disappoints me a little, just cause I really like it when the whole group gets to mess around together, but I get it.


    ¡°This feels so silly,¡± Ellie-Darlin whispers to me. ¡°When we wanted to make decisions back at the Sanctuary, those who wanted to just did it.¡±


    Vernon nods. ¡°Okay, then. Normally I would say just us here would do the job but, if we make it, then that changes things for all of us cause that means we might be gettin more jobs from this guy or we might get some real sway over whatever he builds.¡±


    ¡°Or we could be left in the dust after he gets rich and aligns himself with the Rubies or the Lime Men instead,¡± Shimmy says. ¡°Think about it. Let¡¯s say we risk our lives as his little kleptos, he starts a gambling house, and we do not get shot down by the lickers. Kamon makes a profit. What stops him from going back to his rich company in Damaskraga and leaving us to deal with the aftermath? Did he give you three any incentive to stay? An ultimatum?¡±


    ¡°He got fired,¡± I point out, but I don¡¯t think he hears me cause Vernon speaks right after.


    ¡°No,¡± he says. ¡°He didn¡¯t.¡±


    ¡°I think both of you are thinking too far ahead,¡± Ana says. ¡°Two hundred coin each person. We ain¡¯t signin a contract with this man.¡±


    ¡°It could lead to a contract,¡± Shimmy says. ¡°Like the Gem Lady.¡±


    ¡°It could,¡± Vernon agrees.


    The general mood shifts with the mention of the Gem Lady. That wasn¡¯t a good time.


    ¡°But we don¡¯t know that,¡± Ana emphasizes.


    ¡°Why don¡¯t we just steal it without him knowin, figure out what¡¯s in the shipments, and then demand that he give us the coin in exchange?¡± I say. ¡°That way he ain¡¯t gonna two-time us like the Gem Lady did and we prove we can do all that on our own, that we don¡¯t need him. It could be fun. Maybe the stuff that¡¯s in there is worth more than that damn shiny two-hundred coin, or we can use it to start up our own gamblin hub again. I mean, if we can con a noble, we can do this.¡±


    ¡°Just steal his ideas,¡± Seht says. ¡°I like it.¡±


    A grin comes over Vernon. ¡°That¡¯s¡­ smart.¡± He stands up, wraps his arm around my neck, and rustles the top of my head. I laugh and try to shove him off, then he kisses me on the forehead. ¡°Look here at Asaio! Look at him, growin a brain or two.¡±


    ¡°Only took thirteen cycles,¡± Seht says.


    ¡°Hey!¡± I say.


    The other Garnets, even the hesitant ones, agree that this is the best course of action.


    In a City like ours, it¡¯s so easy to be manipulated. We¡¯d all rather starve than have to say, Yeah. We¡¯re livin like this cause we got two-timed, cause we thought we could trust another friendly man who offered somethin in our interest. Ain¡¯t no one does anythin in the interest of others, not even family, not all the time. Even us Garnets, we¡¯re stuck together cause we had to survive. The love bit came after.


    ¡°We split the group into two. One half watches Kamon, gets a lay on him, the other have watches Yaselle¡¯s Bugs and the Pitters on the docks, see where we can get an openin. The rest of y¡¯all, or a couple of y¡¯all, see Michie and be ready to have our backs in case this goes entirely to shit,¡± Ana says.


    ¡°It won¡¯t,¡± Vernon says. He whacks my head again. ¡°Right, Asaio?¡±


    ¡°Right.¡±


    ***


    We spend most of the rest of the Moon split up into those groups. Crass, Ellie-Darlin, Vernon and I spend a good portion of the time watchin Seventh Harbor and what remained of Yaselle¡¯s Bugs after their rumble with the Pitters.


    Unauthorized duplication: this narrative has been taken without consent. Report sightings.


    A series of arsons happened last night, lit by both gangs, and it greatly disrupted the flow of the harbor. Ellie looks at the scene and pales. ¡°Oh,¡± she squeaks. ¡°I don¡¯t like fire.¡±


    The Seventh dock at Mecraentos Harbor is hard to access for many reasons. The first and foremost bein that the entire harbor is considered a territory of the Rubies.


    The Rubies are the oldest gang in Mecraentos, and they¡¯re less a gang and more of a mini-government, nearly. Not quite, but nearly. They¡¯ve got land and power in places in other cities, it¡¯s said, like Ronnuel and Porclan and Andel and whatever else is out there borderin us, but those are only rumors. The Rubies control a bunch of counterfeit trade that the nobles and Industries can¡¯t quite seem to get rid of. They work against the fixes prices and fixed class rations, but that¡¯s a battle fought on the daily since them prices are hard to fluctuate without access to the farms and factories¨Cwhich the Rubies do have access to, but they ain¡¯t got the power yet to actually change anythin.


    Thing is, the Rubies are also incredibly violent. They¡¯re fear-mongerers. So much so that the lickers would rather work alongside them than not.


    Since we ain¡¯t affiliated, we just avoid them. As much as possible.


    But they have control of most of the docks thanks to deal made with the lickers and the Industries, so a bunch of em are always on watch. That¡¯s problem number one.


    Problem number two is the fact that, even though Seventh Harbor is the smallest of all the harbors and therefore the most optimal for a smaller gang like the Bugs or Pitters to try to stake their claim, there are still a bunch of ships that come in and out of there. Vernon said that Kamon said the boat we¡¯re lookin for¡¯s gonna be painted bright red wtih three orbs carved out on the head, so it ain¡¯t supposed to be too hard to identify, but it¡¯s still hard to get to while workin around all the shiphands that are loadin and unloadin.


    Problem number three is the fact that the Bugs and Pitters are gonna be goin at it at the same time. While a wonderful distraction for many Ruby enforcers and the lickers, that also means we ain¡¯t gonna be able to predict what entrances we have exactly, what their scuffin may prevent us from doin, if it¡¯ll get us caught faster.


    Problem number three may also be a potential benefit cause of the sheer number of tourists we got. Most of them come by from other Cities, to be near the capital Fortress, but there are a good many from the Ten Islands. They provide a good cover for when we got to leave¨Csince the crowds are supposed to be thick as the sea itself¨Cbut that also means we got to be careful or else we disrupt the peace and take the heat and attention away from the gang warfare that¡¯s happenin.


    As the Suns hide away, our watch groups turn back to the warehouse to have one final discussion and to solidify a plan.


    I take Ellie-Darlin¡¯s hand as we navigate the rooftops, her keepin me steady more than I her. We¡¯re laggin a bit behind Crass and Vernon and makin easy progress when a flash of somethin red and bright silver catches my peripheral vision.


    ¡°Stop, Darlin,¡± I tell Ellie.


    She does and looks around. I thought the colors I¡¯d seen were caught rigid between two plague-ridden spires that once probably held up a tent or a balcony, an addition to the tiltin rooftop to create space, but now faded black and purple. I walk closer to them and peer round the corner. Nothin.


    ¡°Huh,¡± I say. ¡°Guess it was¨C¡±


    ¡°Hello, illuminated Soul.¡± The voice sounds somethin straight out of my nightmares. Croakin and deep and utterly deceptive.


    I whip around, movin my hands and beggin the branches around me to attack whatever creep¡¯s just appeared. I try to pull at the plague-ridden wood, but that don¡¯t work since it¡¯s hardly alive and ain¡¯t attached to a livin source anymore; no roots, so it can¡¯t whisper to me. My fists form a punch instead, but I get caught mid-swing.


    Asher, straight faced, says, ¡°Sorry.¡±


    ¡°What in the sweet world,¡± I wheeze. It takes two more seconds for my brain to process. ¡°Oh, Suns! You scared me.¡±


    ¡°I know.¡±


    Ellie-Darlin peers over the corner, studyin him.


    ¡°I thought you said that you Garnets would notice if I was watching you all,¡± Asher says. His dead-pan voice makes it hard for me to tell if he¡¯s jokin.


    ¡°You¡¯ve been watchin us this whole tiem?¡±


    ¡°Your whole watch was my whole watch.¡±


    ¡°Wow.¡± I whistle. ¡°guess we ain¡¯t as good as I thought.¡±


    ¡°Yeah, no.¡± I laugh.


    Ellie-Darlin steps forward and reaches out. She touches his hair, his mouth, his teeth, brushes her fingers against his eyes. He does not flinch or question it, gives no indication of bein uncomfortable except for the slight crease of his brows. ¡°Asher,¡± she says, hand still waverin a bit over his nose.


    ¡°Hi, Missus.¡±


    She bops the tip of his nose. ¡°Do not call me Missus.¡±


    And that¡¯s that.


    ¡°So what time are we going to strike?¡± Asher asks.


    ¡°We?¡± I repeat.


    ¡°Yes? Unless you don¡¯t want me there.¡±


    ¡°Nah, I mean¨Cwell, the other Garnets still don¡¯t know you. Were you listenin while we were in teh warehouse too?¡±


    Asher shakes his head. ¡°No, I was with Michie and Madge.¡±


    ¡°Well, we¡¯re sendin some people there to work with Michie while the rest of us do this. Not for Kamon, by the way. That fell through. Just for us.¡±


    ¡°Oh,¡± he says, but he does not ask why. He shrugs. ¡°I like to keep busy. I¡¯d like to help.¡±


    ¡°Yeah, I get that but the Garnets got to trust you first. Know you have our back, you know. Can¡¯t just lurk and listen in and think that¡¯s the same thing as talkin with us.¡±


    He pulls his cloak closer to him. ¡°Sorry,¡± he says, real sincerely.


    ¡°Nah, you¡¯re okay.¡±


    Ellie adjusts her lenses with one hand and squeezes mine with the other. ¡°It is getting late,¡± she says. ¡°Come back with us, meet Vernon while we finish planning.¡±


    Asher seems sways a little. His expression doesn¡¯t change much but I feel like he¡¯s uncomfortable.


    ¡°There a specific reason you don¡¯t want to or¡­?¡± I say.


    ¡°No, it¡¯s okay,¡± he says. ¡°I¡¯ll come. Sorry.¡±


    ¡°Why are you apologizing?¡± Ellie-Darlin asks.


    ¡°Are you not annoyed?¡±


    ¡°No? Am I?¡±


    ¡°Your inflection¡¯s changed when I arrived and you¡¯ve taken a few steps away from me.¡±


    ¡°What?¡±


    I take Asher¡¯s hand with my free one. ¡°Come on, root-brain.¡±


    ¡°Boot-brain,¡± Asher murmurs. I laugh.


    Ellie-Darin says, ¡°Shoot-train?¡±


    ¡°Loof-lane?¡±


    ¡°New-name?¡±


    ***


    We finalize the plan at the warehouse. The others don¡¯t react much to Asher¡¯s existence cause we¡¯ve recruited so many times, more than the number of people livin with us now, but I know they observe his every move and test him in similar ways that Ellie-Darlin did. He wins a few points by bein introduced as Michie¡¯s kid. Same with showin off his bow and arrows.


    The whole time we¡¯re plannin and re-plannin ths job, Asher stays real quiet in the corner. It looks like he¡¯s sort of spacin out; his eyes not really focused.


    The plan¡¯s simple. We¡¯re gonna split up into four groups. First one made of Vernon, Shimmy¨Cwho changed his mind about helpin when we agreed not to go back to Kamon, and Mustletop. They¡¯re gonna be on watch for Yaselle¡¯s Bugs and the Pitters. On watch, we found they weren¡¯t actively hashin it out, but the remnants of the fires suggested that they weren¡¯t havin hand-to-hand rumbles. Nah, they were fightin dirty. Plus, when Vernon and Ki masked around, locals said that there had only been three or four brutal murders. All the other deaths had to do with drownin in the harbor or the arsons themselves. So those three should be good. they just got to make sure that, if there are any more inciidents, that our group is safely out of the way.


    Second group is made of Kim, Genavieve, and Asher. They¡¯ll be doin somethin similar: lookin out to make sure our group is out of the way of the lickers and the Rubies.


    Third group is the group that¡¯s actually gonna be sneakin onto the ship. Ana, Vip, Crass, and Crimson are deemed best for that. Vip¡¯s plague lets him climb real well, and Ana¡¯s the most agile of us all. When the group was a lot smaller, back when Seran was runnin things, Vip and Ana were an iconic duo of watchers because of just how slippery they are.


    Crass is important for a different reason. Her plague gifts lets her be an insanely good swimmer. She¡¯s gonna be comin onto the ship from the ocean, from behind the ship, with Crimson on her back. She¡¯ll be the one leavin with the haul since it¡¯s less likely that the lickers or the Rubies will be able to follow her in the water.


    And Crimson¨Cwell, Crimson partially got the sneakin around job cause he ain¡¯t any good in a rumble. Not his fault. The skin of his arms is slowly mergin into the skin on the side of his body, makin it hard to move, but he can see well in the dark.


    Last is Ellie-Darlin and I. We¡¯re the entrance and exit out of the harbor for everyone but Crass. Mostly me since the plan is to use my leaf and branch whisperin to let the group cut through a section of plague-ridden trees and forest area onto the rooftops of the Fyi streets.


    It¡¯s risky, since we will definitely have the lickers on our trail if they find out we have someone who can unnaturally move trees in our group, but it¡¯s the best shot.


    ¡°Sound good?¡± Vernon says after the recap.


    There was a lot of discussion about who would be best for what, lots of back and forth, but everyone seems settled now. If things don¡¯t turn out well, we adapt.


    ***


    Some of the others like to stay round the harbor, when we can get away with it. I don¡¯t. The sound of the waves crackin against the sides of the ships, seein the ocean pull rocks under and eat up entire crates, the vast nothingness, the stingingly salty air¨Cit makes my stomach feel queasy. The ocean¡¯s a dangerous place, I¡¯ve always thought.


    We pull through back-alleys and climb up old sewage pipes onto the roofs. Then I cut through paths of trees and brush. We avoid the main entrance on Harbor Street, a real original name, that¡¯s guarded by three lickers who pat you down before comin on. If you ain¡¯t registered as one of the few businessmen approved by the nobles and Industry, or a tourist, then there is little reason for you to be wanderin round the ships.


    It takes a bit for us to figure out how to move twelve kids without much sound, but we manage by takin it real, real slow. Most of the authorities and Rubies are too focused on the incomin bells and the yellin of captains on docks.


    Ellie-Darlin and I watch from above as the Garnets disperse below us, slippin into four different alleys between tourist-targeted shops that are owned and run by the bug lickers. Most og the Garnets will get back on the rooftops. Some will hide within the crowds.


    Here, the smoke plums ain¡¯t nearly as bad. Steppin off of wooden bridges come men and women from the Ten Islands. The Islanders wear lighter clothes that show a lot of flesh and don¡¯t accommodate for our harsh rains. When the lickers catch hold of them, they round up the Islanders and force them to put on more modest ¡°non-indulgent¡± attire, especially them women, which is ironic cause they don¡¯t give a damn about modesty on Carnum and Catum.


    Despite this, the tourists still smile. The music of the City can do that. Only the best buskers and performers are permitted here, and their charm is such that you ain¡¯t able to turn away once you¡¯ve been caught in a performance or song.


    There are at least three times the number of people here as in Market Street, even though the suns have hardly risen, but they ain¡¯t wanderin nearly as freely. They¡¯re bein stopped every three seconds by the lickers and then being grabbed aggressively at the arms by the Rubies.


    The red-necked Rubies. Now, those men and women, they turn their plague into art. That¡¯s how you know if you¡¯re with a Ruby versus someone else¡ªthey emphasize their horns, their moldin skin, their broken noses, the black veins that run all through their body, with red and black blood tattoos and makeup.


    The tourists from the Islands can¡¯t hide the shock from their faces. The merchants that are bringin in imports from around the kingdom seem content to bein brutally shoved through, stripped down, and crates broken in-to by the lickers and Rubies.


    ¡°They are moving,¡± Ellie-Darlin whispers.


    Crass is already in the water, Crimson on her back. I don¡¯t know where Shimmy or Mustletop went, but I can see Vernon steadily growin his arm so that he can climb onto the top of a different tree, the skin of his arm stretchin and the bones expandin until you can see the fluid green and the black veins within, mixin together in a gruesome portrait.


    For Ellie-Darlin and I, most of today will be waitin. On alert, of course. But waitin.

 Ash and Stone XIS - Asaio

    ASAIO


    ¡°Seventeen,¡± I say.


    ¡°Eighteen,¡± Ellie-Darlin says.


    ¡°Where?¡±


    ¡°Over there.¡±


    ¡°I can¡¯t see that far.¡±


    She pushes her lenses up her nose. ¡°Me too.¡±


    We¡¯re countin the number of Yaselle¡¯s Bugs that have pulled up into the harbor since we got here. the red ship hasn¡¯t come into port yet after maybe an hour of waiting. The red sky and the loomin Suns are visible in a rare instance of clear skies. I¡¯m already feelin a bit restless. Countin keeps us busy and keeps Ellie focused, so she don¡¯t forget why we¡¯re here in the first place.


    Her long term memory is pretty good, but we don¡¯t know what she¡¯ll remember in the short term. The plague never has any rhyme or reason.


    ¡°No Pitters?¡± I ask.


    ¡°None,¡± Ellie-Darlin says. ¡°Yaselle is here, though.¡±


    ¡°Really? Where?¡± I ask, even though she already said this twice.


    Yaselle is a straight-haired, young woman, standin without any sort of hunch in the center of the harbor. She wears a long black coat and carries a white parasol. It¡¯s not entirely nondescript. A group of Rubies stand around her. Not right beside her, but the red-necked man are clearly keepin an eye out. She has a placid smile on her pale face.


    There have been multiple Yaselles. No one knows who exactly is the right one, as they all introduce themselves as Yaselle, but there¡¯s said to be three main women. They all carry the white parasol and, whenever somethin goes down with the Bugs, at least one is present.


    Her Bugs are scattered across the harbor. None carry weapons, though. In fact, they seem to be talkin nicely to the lickers.


    A sudden onslaught of yellin comes. Barrelin through the static bells and the harbor comes a carriage. A blue carriage, the old sort that¡¯s dragged by two very strong men, onto the north side of Harbor Street. A group of lickers in their pristine snake-skin uniforms come runnin, mustkets in tow, shackles in hand.


    ¡°Hey, hold it, hold it!¡± the coachman yells. He waves a yellow paper in the air, with some design I can¡¯t see on it.


    One of the Rubies, a fellow with a tongue a leg long that¡¯s just droopin out of his mouth, approaches. He nods at the lickers and they back off.


    The coachman steps down and slaps the backs of the men pullin the coach. These men are covered with black veins so thick they do not seem human anymore. Their muscles are thick and unnaturally profound. I wince as they scream, tryin to fight against the shackles on their legs. Even from here, I can tell they¡¯ve lost their minds and are bein exploited as nothin more than free, morally-alright behavior. When someone needs to be shackled, most just kill them off before they can go completely rabid. But some twisted Souls have realized that, if they have enough connections with the lickers and the Slaughter Houses, they can get away with usin the near-dead.


    Ellie shuts her eyes and looks away.


    The coachman opens the door. A short, stubby man steps out. He¡¯s got bright orange hair, not red like Asher¡¯s, and no arms. He limps a bit weirdly and one eye is completely black, surrounded by grossly gray, rottin flesh.


    Yaselle, a group of Rubies, and a few Bugs approach.


    ¡°I can¡¯t hear what they¡¯re sayin,¡± I say.


    ¡°Me too.¡± Ellie-Darlin rubs her ears. ¡°It must be a very civil engagement.¡±


    Yaselle gestures to her left. A Bug appears to her left, one that we hadn¡¯t clocked.


    The Bugs wear semi-lavish clothin, his hair tied up in a bunch of buns. He has a musket over his shoulder. When he turns, I realize he¡¯s got clawed, pointed hands. probably feet too. He grips a young boy by the neck, younger than us. Round Kim¡¯s age.


    ¡°Hostage?¡± I say.


    Ellie-Darlin grabs my sleeve. ¡°What color was the ship we were supposed to be looking for?¡±


    ¡°Red.¡±


    ¡°Like that one?¡±


    Comin into the harbor is a red ship, grander than anythin Vernon described to us. It¡¯s about twice the size of our own, which are rickety at best and old as can be. They used to be warships for the Sixty-Seven Cycle War, I think, but their¡­ less-than-desirable quality shows in their cryin sails and poor paint jobs.


    This red one ain¡¯t that. I think it¡¯s steam powered, it¡¯s movin a bunch faster than our own. There are a lot of flags on it, wavin the green and yellow flags with a mandalic pattern in the middle. Dozens of people turn their heads at the site.


    ¡°Yes. Like that one. Suns, them shipbuilders in Damaskraga mean business. Wow.¡± I pause. ¡°That is¡­ suspicious timin.¡±


    ¡°Why?¡±


    ¡°Hostage right over there.¡±


    ¡°Oh.¡±


    ¡°What are those patterns?¡±


    ¡°The Damaskragan flag,¡± Ellie-Darlin answers.


    Sometimes it¡¯s hard to remember there¡¯s a world outside of Mecraentos¡ªnot even Mecraentos Kingdom but Mecraentos City¡ªwhen there is no one or nothin to expose you to it.


    A few clicks come through the air. Faint, but just loud enough to hear. We¡¯re ready, the message says. The click system is used by all the Garnets, but was developed by Seht and I.


    The red ship ain¡¯t close enough to port for Crass and Crimson to safely sneak on from the oceanside. I know they wade about thirty feet away from the port, while the ship is near sixty or seventy.


    Suddenly, the sound of a gunshot comes, then a chorus of screams.


    I turn my attention back to the hostage situation. It¡¯s gone bloody. The Bugs that Yaselle had stationed around suddenly clamor onto the Pitters that filter out of the blue carriage. Three in total. Eighteen versus a team of three. No, that¡¯s wrong, I realize as the clamor of wheels and a harsh crash comes.


    A second round of carriages suddenly appear, their less-than-people drivers barrelin through confused crowds of incessantly screamin tourists and merchants. They must have been waitin just around the block.


    Yaselle¡¯s Bugs pounce on them, attackin. The lickers pull out their muskets, yellin, while the Rubies pounce to break up the two groups.


    The little boy that had been taken hostage is gone. I look around, unable to spot him.


    The red ship pulls up closer. There won¡¯t be a clear path for Crass, Crimson, Vip, and Ana to make it back to Ellie-Darlin and I if this escalates into a full-out rumble. There is one ship in front of the red one that has to pull up before it can, which means we have at least a few minutes for that ship to be harbored.


    Stolen novel; please report.


    Mustletop and Shimmy scurry between the confused crowds, settlin between a close-off watch tower; a wooden hobble that had been burnt against the side, makin it look less than menacin.


    Yaselle¡¯s Bugs break off into five separate groups. Three of them run and, to my surprise, rescue the tourists and merchants. The other two deal with keepin the Rubies and the Pitters and the lickers at bay.


    It¡¯s a bloody mess of musket shots and sheer violent force.


    The problem with the plague is that you don¡¯t know what abilities someone¡¯s got from it just by lookin at them. The other gangs probably have profiles on all their enemies, and so do the lickers, but it seems so random to an uneducated bystander, like me.


    I watch as a red-necked woman suddenly throws off her shirt, revealin giant spikes growin out of her spine, and three extra sets of arms. The entirety of her back is covered with black, rottin skin. She screams and launches herself at two of Yaselle¡¯s Bugs. One dodges at a pace faster than my brain can comprehend. The other barrels and points her hand. Suddenly, two giant flies come buzzin at the woman¡¯s head. This woman is someone like Flynn, who can conjure the very rare non-plague ridden animal.


    Tourists and merchants don¡¯t help. They run away from the Bugs that are tryin to get them to safety, many headin back to the ships they came off of, ships that are high-tailin it out of there.


    Muskets go off. I watch as four shots hit the same woman¡ªI don¡¯t even think she¡¯s a Bug or a Pitter, I¡¯m pretty sure she¡¯s just a random person¡ªand she falls to the ground.


    I watch as a merchant takes her body and hauls it off in a greedy frenzy, instead of leavin it for the Slaughter Houses to take and turn to packaged meat.


    Mustletop and Shimmy suddenly appear, Vernon trailin them. They¡¯re usin the crates to section off one of the alleys. Ensurin that there is an emergency exit to escape to. Good.


    The flies crash into the woman and three lickers that were tryin to keep the peace. All insects that survived the plague, the only sort of real animal that survived, are giant. Absolutely giant.


    It feels like my neck is gonna snap, tryin to watch everythin all at once.


    A group of Bugs that are carryin a significant amount of civilians away from all the fightin are suddenly shot down, one by one, civilian or gang, by the lickers. They don¡¯t go down easy. The Bugs shove the civilians into the road, yellin for them to stay away, and pounce on the lickers. Each one pulls out a parasol.


    I don¡¯t get what good a parasol will do and don¡¯t get time to think about it because two of the four carriages that came to the Pitters¡¯ aid suddenly burst into flames. It seems that Yaselle¡¯s group is the cause of all the arsons, then.


    Yaselle herself is a force to be reckoned with. I can¡¯t see any very obvious plague on her, but she¡¯s a damn good fighter. I realize, her parasol is her weapon. She brings two men down to their knees and stabs the parasol into their eyes, then, with the parasol still stuck in their sockets, draggin it upwards into their brains. The screams are worse than anythin I have ever heard, and I¡¯ve heard a lot of screams on these streets. A gunshot hits her in the shoulder. She lets go of the men and goes runnin in the other direction, where her Bugs can cover her.


    I watch as a single Ruby slams four men into one of the burnin carriages, incineratin them.


    The orange-haired Pitter has grown a bunch of scales on his arms. He seems to be a human shield for his more important friend, a lanky fellow with an extraordinarily long beard, throwin him around by the neck to catch the musket bullets.


    Dozens of bells are ringin.


    If you listen to it beneath the chaos, it almost sounds musical. Peaceful. A wonderful, predictable melody. Somethin entirely more real than what the buskers offer¨Cthis is the real music of the City.


    either fled or been forced out of the vicinity due to a series of crates bein thrown by one of the gangs, I can¡¯t even tell who right now.


    One of the two remainin carriages crashes into a group of lickers, rollin over them.


    The coachman yells at a group of Rubies, ¡°Help us, Huiy, damn it!¡±


    One Ruby grabs a Bug and smashes her skull into the ground. ¡°We are, you fucker!¡± he yells as he picks up the Bug¡¯s parasol and whips around to whack another Bug.


    As the ship in front of our own pulls into the dock, the orange-haired Pitter runs at it. ¡°Down, down, down!¡±


    ¡°Now!¡± Yaselle screams.


    The ship is probably a quarter of the size of the red one from Damaskraga, but it is still significant. Three Pitters are runnin at it when a bunch of heads pull over the helms and quarterdeck.


    ¡°It¡¯s a trap!¡±


    The entire ship erupts into flames. The red ship is forced to stay back.


    Out of all the possible scenarios that we¡¯d envisioned regardin the gang violence, settin a ship that had not even reached us yet had not been on the table. On the brightside, the harbor¡¯s completely emptied out. Except for the dead ones, many civilians had been successfully pulled away by Yaselle¡¯s Bugs. I can see many of them still cluttered on the other street, just barely far enough away from the violence.


    Then, there is a sudden crash.


    The burnin ship did not pull into the harbor correctly. No, it crashed directly into the wooden harbor. The wooden planks penetrate the rudder and send the entire thing teemin. It sways dangerously. The sudden, strong waves don¡¯t help it at all.


    Many bodies are jumpin from the ship, shirtless and pantless.


    The red ship has stopped itself completely.


    ¡°Oh Suns. That¡¯s not good,¡± I whisper. I look over to my left, where Ellie-Darlin has steadily moved away, one hand over her ears. ¡°Oh, Suns! Ellie! Ellie!¡±


    ¡°What?¡±


    ¡°The fire!¡±


    One of the coaches got a little too close to our brush-ridden rooftop. The flames are startin to dance towards us.


    ¡°We¡¯ll do it again!¡± Yaselle yells. I don¡¯t know where her voice is comin from. It echoes in a way that it could have come from anywhere. ¡°Your men on the Queenspire are burning, or they¡¯re drowning! We will set fire after fire, until your coffers burn worse than your ships, Jax! Do you hear me? I said, do you hear me?¡±


    More gunshots. More screams.


    I whisper to the leaves and branches, runnin down their sides and havin them slide me down towards the ground from the rooftop, where the fire is startin. I¡¯m exposed plainly to everyone in the harbor now, but it don¡¯t matter. I take off my shirt and start whackin at the flames, turnin all the branches around me away from it so that this singular piece is the only piece that is charred.


    Thankfully, the flames go out.


    I catch sight of the crates in the alley that Mustletop and Shimmy had placed. They¡¯re waitin in there, helpin Genavieve and Vernon and Kim over too. When a few tourists try to squeeze by, Shimmy shoves them out of the way at first, but Vernon helps move them towards safety.


    I look around. Where¡¯s Asher?


    A body is suddenly thrown into my direction. I gasp and climb back up the branches onto the rooftop, wavin a hand to enclose the space.


    When I make it back to Ellie-Darlin, she says, ¡°Are the others still going to get onto the ship? Ana and Vip cannot reach it.¡±


    ¡°Knowin Ana and Vip, they¡¯re gonna think it¡¯s the perfect distraction so that they can get on completely undetected,¡± I say. ¡°And Crass will think so too, so she¡¯ll be up there first, with Crimson.¡±


    ¡°Oh.¡±


    ¡°We wait here until we see them.¡±


    The red ship does not seem like it is going to pull into the harbor very soon.


    I¡¯m not sure how much longer I want to wait. The fire ain¡¯t spreadin except for our own branch. The Bugs did a good job at ensurin that the entire harbor they¡¯re fightin for won¡¯t actually be for nothin¡ªknockin away crates that could potentially go up in flames away from the coaches¡ªbut still. The smoke¡¯s startin to come by, and the fightenin has long but stopped.


    The longer we stay, the more at risk one of us becomes bein caught in the crossfire.


    More bullets reign. Ellie-Darlin grabs my arm. ¡°Asaio, look. Why is Crass swimming over there? Did I forget something else?¡±


    It¡¯s only a quick glimpse, but I can see Crass swimmin through the harbor, Ana on her back. Her gift makes it so that she don¡¯t swim the normal way. It¡¯s hard to describe how she does, only that she¡¯s underwater for an extreme amount of time. Ana looks like she¡¯s barely breakin a sweat, holdin on for dear life.


    If Ana is on her back, that means Crimson must have been dropped off onto the red ship, and that Crass is comin back for Ana and Vernon. They¡¯re still gonna get the job done, just one-by-one.


    ¡°Smart,¡± I murmur.


    I look back over to where our family is hidin in the alley.


    ¡°Give it up, Jax!¡± Yaselle yells.


    ¡°Who are these kids?¡±


    Oh no.


    A group of lickers are cuttin through the crates that Mustletop and Shimmy placed to guard our escape.


    Two towerin Rubies shove past the lickers. ¡°Get out!¡± one roars. ¡°Get out of here, rats!¡±


    Go, I urge. The exit on mine and Ellie-Darlin¡¯s side is still open for our buddies on the boat.


    Until one of the lickers yells, ¡°There¡¯s more kids in the water! Look there!¡±


    Damn it.


    I hear a gun go off. I gasp and pull myself forward, lookin out.


    They¡¯re tryin to shoot Crass, who has Vip on her back. And if they alert the crew on the red ship that somethin¡¯s amiss, we¡¯re screwed. Crass ducks back underwater, takin Vip down with her.


    ¡°If those are your kids,¡± Yaselle coos. ¡°You better get them, Jax.¡±


    ¡°Those are thieving street rats,¡± one of the Pitters says before punchin a licker in the jaw. ¡°They can die for all I care.¡±


    ¡°Run, kids!¡± Yaselle yells.


    But we can¡¯t, not with half the lickers leavin and runnin towards the dock to catch Crass and Ana and Vip and Crimson. Not with the red ship crew lookin around wildly, yellin out orders in Damaskragan, probably to check what¡¯s happenin in their storage.


    The lickers are the only ones who care enough about theft that is not bein partially pawned off to them. The Rubies, Yaselle¡¯s Bugs, the Five Pitters¡ªthey care about territory. They don¡¯t give a damn about us as long as we don¡¯t get in the way like this again.


    So the rest of us just got to distract the lickers long enough for Crass to pull everyone out of the red ship.


    I look out and over the branches, makin eye contact with Vernon.


    He nods.


    Then, the five of them who were hidin in the alley, pounce right as two of the lickers pounce onto them, handcuffs and muskets in tow.

 Ash and Stone XII - Nadya

    NADYA


    ¡°That could have been worse,¡± Kaki says, buttoning up his special blue blouse. It is an arma, which is formal wear worn during outdoor parties. They are created to adapt to different weathering environments, with thick pads to counter the rain and a flowy skin to keep from heats in the Dry Season. I¡¯ve never seen him wear it for previous holidays, like the Trial Ball or weddings, and yet he wears it now.


    My cheeks are bright red as I tighten the back of his garment. ¡°I suppose.¡±


    ¡°Should I do my hair?¡±


    ¡°You never care about your hair.¡±


    ¡°Yeah but¡­ I don¡¯t know.¡±


    ¡°Leave it. It¡¯s probably going to rain, anyways.¡±


    A short silence passes.


    That could have been worse.


    We¡¯d spoken to Enlightened Everleigh about letting us go to the Fyi Festival, after I informed Kaki of my decision; a means to meet Kaki¡¯s Jeran, the harbor of illegal knowledge and a man of blasphemy. Yet my path seems dictated by the Suns. But, after what we witnessed between Miss Gennadi and the other noble women after the theater performances, it felt like there was an even large barrier between the Enlightened and her nephew. The conversation lasted for two hours because of Kaki¡¯s hesitance and the severity of Enlightened Everleigh¡¯s moments of sleepiness, muteness, and ramblings. She agreed after a long, incoherent thought about ¡®the big glowing caves and the seas islands.¡¯ The Ten Islands were not at all a part of our discussion.


    When I told Missus Yarna about Enlightened Everleigh¡¯s approval, she said, ¡°Nadya. You¡¯ve never left the Fortress before. The City is no place for a young girl like you. The Fortress has all you need¡ªI know you are not completely content with your life and I understand you are trying to overcome this, but running off and disregarding all you have been blessed with will not do you any good.¡±


    But does wanting to see more mean that I am taking what I have for granted?


    I suppose it does, if I think of what I have as lesser-than. I do not know which woman Kaki refers to when he says, ¡°That could have been worse.¡±


    Kaki had been in the room. Missus Yarna, in the most respectful and genial way possible, withered him with just a stare. I know she blames him for my fractures and lack of Purity. She often says I am too devout for him, but only in private, and only under her breath, when she thinks I cannot hear.


    ¡°Enlightened Alranath forgot about our lesson today,¡± Kaki says. ¡°You know, even if I were to want a seat in the Court, I¡¯d have to find a different tutor.¡±


    ¡°Don¡¯t say that.¡±


    ¡°Why? It¡¯s true.¡±


    ¡°Many would love to have an Enlightened as their tutor.¡±


    Kaki rolls his eyes dramatically. ¡°Turn around.¡±


    ¡°Why?¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m going to do your hair.¡±


    ¡°No, you are not, actually.¡±


    ¡°Yes, I am, actually.¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s going to rain. And you don¡¯t even know how to do a girl¡¯s hair.¡±


    ¡°I bet I could do it better than you.¡±


    My eyes narrow. ¡°Fine. Prove it.¡±


    He smiles and gestures for me to sit on the edge of his bed. ¡°You¡¯re so competitive, Nadya. I highly encourage you to take up a game.¡±


    ¡°I am not. And, even if I were, I can¡¯t take up any games.¡± Ospry are allowed to do games like Kickball and such but, seeing as Purity is greatly affected by one¡¯s work ethic and Kickball does not have any societal benefits, it is an indulgent practice. We are not permitted hobbies, but most hobbies must have some underlying connection to our work. For example, my sewing. It is a joy of mine and useful for mending all of Kaki¡¯s dirty boy clothes.


    My spine tingles as he pulls back the strands gently. I think he¡¯s braiding it, but I can¡¯t tell. I can hardly do my own hair. I never had a mother to show me.


    I glance down at his burnt, red arms. They have already begun to heal. I wonder why a burn such as this may pass, but a burn such as mine will never go away.


    ¡°There. Done,¡± he says.


    ¡°That was fast.¡±


    I look at my reflection in his back mirror. I cringe at the sight of my face, as I typically do. Then I do a double-take. It wasn¡¯t a braid after all. Or, it was, but wrapped elegantly around the bun I usually adorn, almost like a laurel. He reaches out to pull a few strands in front of my face, to frame it.


    My reflection is mine but¡­ different. Elegant, almost.


    ¡°You look pretty,¡± he says with a little laugh. ¡°Thanks to yours truly.¡±


    ¡°Shut up.¡±


    ***


    The carriage that Enlightened Everleigh arranged for us is a lavish one, but also indiscreet. It is sleek and narrow, made to fit only four, with black cloth and wood formings its side. It is steam powered, with thin windows, and a clawed-up velvet driver¡¯s seat. The red sky begins to dim purple above us as the Suns fade away and the Moons make their climb towards the peak. We are towards the back of the Fortress, so there are not nearly as many Souls here wandering about. The carriage, in the solitary, fading light, seems ominous.


    ¡°I¡¯ve never been in one of these,¡± I say.


    ¡°I have only twice, for religious conferences,¡± Kaki says. I remember them well¡ªa Moon in which was spent to ensure that Kaki was not Enlightened and another was when he was quite little, before I was his charge. He had been lured out by a strange man claiming to be the founder of a new religious movement and nearly kidnapped.


    In front of the carriage are two men wearing military personal. There are different branches of our military but, these Moons, they are collectively known as the military since the War ended and our kingdom has no desire to enter another one. Thick, leather jackets equipped with vests that have been modified for each man¡¯s plague altercations. The one on the left is at least double my size, with a gruff face and a single dark eye¡ªthe other is sewn shut. His skin looks sickly green, and slimy. The second man is leaner, taller, with a musket over his shoulder and a face that is in the process of change. His eyes are larger than the average person¡¯s, probably the size of my fist, and bloodshot. His nose is tiny and the way his lips are pursed together makes them seem like they are popping out of his face at an extreme degree.


    If you¡¯re of high class or noble family, then your family likely served well during the Sixty Seven Cycle War. The Industry of Servitude, the military, ensures that its people get compensation, with the help of the Industry of Temples. Even better than Prayer or debts, fighting for what you believe in can efficiently heal a fractured Soul.


    The two military men raise their palms to their foreheads.


    ¡°Sergeant Mitia, Sergeant Norris,¡± Kaki greets. ¡°Thank you for accompanying us.¡±


    ¡°Of course, Lightened.¡±


    ¡°Wait, wait, wait!¡± a shrill voice comes from behind.


    Running towards us is a small girl of maybe six or seven carrying a white basket. She must be Pure, for the pretty white dress she dons is better than anything I currently own.


    ¡°Lightened Bakiyoria?¡± the little girl cries.


    Kaki frowns. ¡°Hi?¡±


    ¡°I heard¡ªI heard you¡¯re a miracle worker,¡± she says.


    ¡°I¡ªwhat? No.¡±


    ¡°My mama said so,¡± she says.


    ¡°Who¡¯s your mama?¡±


    ¡°My mama is named Ranna.¡± She giggles with a naivety found only in small children. ¡°That rhymes.¡±


    Kaki blanches at the name. So do I. The Lightened woman from Sal Gasve that had tried to stick needles in Kaki¡¯s eyes. ¡°Right. Well, tell your mama that I can¡¯t perform miracles. Or see visions of the past, present, future. Or anything like that. Sweetie.¡± The words are clunky on his tongue¡ªKaki was never any good with children.


    ¡°But¡­ you¡¯re supposed to be special.¡±


    ¡°I think some people would consider me special for a few less flattering reasons.¡±


    ¡°Oh. Can I tell you my miracle anyways?¡±


    He runs a hand through his hair uncomfortably. ¡°Sure.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m going to whisper it to you.¡±


    ¡°Okay.¡± He leans down and lets her whisper into his ear. He wears a very solemn expression and nods thoughtfully. ¡°Oh, that is not good now, is it?¡±


    She shakes her head. ¡°Mhm-mhm. It is not.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯ll do what I can,¡± he promises.


    ¡°See! You are a miracle worker! Bye-bye, Lightened!¡± She runs off into the other direction.


    I sigh. ¡°Sorry, Kaki.¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s okay.¡±


    ¡°What did she ask for?¡±


    ¡°A friend of hers got kidnapped,¡± he says. ¡°I¡¯ll report it to the authorities.¡±


    ¡°Kidnapped?¡±


    ¡°Yes. Troubling, isn¡¯t it?¡± Stories such as that never happen in the Fortress. The Pure are not capable of such heathenry. It goes right along with not appreciating what you have and taking from others what is not necessary for you.


    I nod, uttering a Prayer beneath my breath for the lost Soul. Kaki watches me with an expression I cannot decipher.


    ***


    I learn very quickly that the rocking back and forth of the coach against the road makes me sick to my stomach. The inside of the coach is very nice. Beautifully carved out seats with dips in the middle so that it feels like you¡¯re sinking a bit. Two sets of them face each other with a very small table in the middle and a leather hatch, for books and papers and other conferring items. The windows that are kept open, lined with green glowshroom oil.


    The queasiness soon becomes obnoxious, and I cannot tell if it is the physicality of the coach or my own nervous thinking.


    This is my first time leaving the Fortress in my entire life. We drive past the main turrets and towers, which hold the wings. Gerasim and Kirill do not hang in the sky to aid my discomfort. Slowly, the turrets creep past me. We approach the front gates, built long before I was born. Since the Fortress was built as a military base, the gates were made to be extremely hard to penetrate. They are not grated or barred¡ªthey are pure metal, hundreds of legs long and high. Not as tall as the Fortress walls themself, but pretty close. It takes over fifty people just to open the gates. They are the Gate Keepers, a branch of public servitude similar to the Rain Keepers. The closer we come, the smaller I feel.


    I murmur a Prayer beneath my breath as we hit something extraordinarily tall and it rocks the carriage so hard that Kaki and I slam forward into the table. It is likely a plague-root in the ground.


    We pause as the gate opens and then, slowly, the Fortress moves farther and farther, smaller and smaller, inch by inch. My heart hammers against my chest.


    All my life, the Fortress has been something bigger than myself. A history I will never completely understand. A home I will never completely know. Sectioned off from the rest of the kingdom, yet bustling all at once. Sprawling yet organized, neatly kept together, organized well and happily by class. Gorgeous yet functional. And always predictable.


    I stare intensely as we move further and further along the dark path, filled with brush and plague-root.


    The smells hit me instantly. While the Fortress wasn¡¯t all sweet fruits or purified blood¡ªit was musty most of the time, really¡ªthere was not a lingering aroma of smoke, and fresh blood, and feces and more smoke accumulating into a thick, oppressive air. So much smoke, I realize. I can hardly see the red skyline, the air is so gray.


    I cover my mouth with my sleeve and cough as the road becomes even more rocky. It is like we are driving on a bunch of thick stones of different sizes and shapes. I tell Kaki we might have to stop so I can hurl. The black roots claw their way out of the ground like gruesome, dying hands. Running through the packed soil are veins of black. The same sort you see in the trees. The ground is similar in the Fortress, but not as severe.


    Royal Road is the home of this novel. Visit there to read the original and support the author.


    I don¡¯t realize I am death-gripping the edge of my frock until Kaki says, ¡°Relax, Nadya. We¡¯ve barely gone ten legs.¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s going to be a bit rocky,¡± the coachman warns up front. ¡°It¡¯s downhill from here.¡±


    I didn¡¯t realize that the Fortress was built on elevated ground. It almost looks down on the rest of the City. Because the windows are on the side of the coach and not the front, the City reveals Itself to me gradually.


    First is a long section of plague-ridden brush and trees. They are thickly overgrown, covering up paths that seemed like they had once been used but have long since been abandoned. I try to follow where they may have led, but it all comes back to mounds of brush and black wood.


    I almost expect the City to have a neat gate or clear point of entrance, like the Fortress.


    Instead, it comes upon us slowly. As the ground flattens and my stomach doesn¡¯t feel like it¡¯s going to be turned inside-out, tents start to pop up on the side of the road. They are made of overgrown leaves, old skin, and logs, held together with vines and charred rope.


    ¡°What are these?¡± I ask.


    ¡°The Tyn,¡± Kaki says.


    The Tyn. The faithless. This is where they live?


    ¡°Or maybe not the Tyn,¡± he muses.


    ¡°Have you been to the City before, Lightened?¡± one of the Sergeants asks.


    ¡°Oh, yes,¡± he says. ¡°Once or twice.¡±


    It would be one thing if the tents were simply a dozen. But that is simply not the case. ¡°But¡­ we provide everyone housing. The Industries make sure of it. What is this?¡±


    As we draw closer to the City, the tents slowly dissipate, as though they were never there.


    The small Tyn huts turn into squished, one-room homes stacked on top of each other. The road gradually opens itself and sprawls into multiple, with paved sections on the sides as the buildings grow taller and taller, as though trying to break the surface of the smoke for fresh air. All made of wood, many attached to plague-ridden trees¡ªthe bottom floors are often the trunk of the buildings. They are eerie looking, the way they all slant to the left, pressed down by an unyielding thumb.


    All around there are people. They wear long, flowing garments that cover up their skin. I can see even now they are heightened versions of the arma¡ªthick shoulder pads and hoods to protect from the rains. They watch our coach with dark eyes. There are only young people, twenty at the eldest.


    The farther we get into the City, the more coaches and carriages there are, but most are not steam-powered. They are being pulled along by shirtless, plague-ridden men, who scream and yell as their coachmen wave bags in front of their faces.


    ¡°What is that?¡± I whisper. ¡°What are they doing?¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s an illegal practice,¡± Sergeant Mitia tells me, ¡°using the dying for labor. It is the Rubies who endorse this; they are practitioners of the strong versus the weak and they pay these men well.¡±


    ¡°They look so young.¡±


    ¡°Because of their fractured Souls, most here do not live longer than twenty-five.¡±


    ¡°That¡¯s it?¡± I whisper. They are younger than Missus Yarna. In the Fortress, most reach their mid-thirties.


    Families hang out on balconies that protrude from the apartment complexes. I am not sure if they are truly balconies or simply uncovered sections. I realize that none of these buildings have doors.


    It is close to the evening, and families walk home, chatting and laughing on the inner streets. Many have drums or other instruments slung over their shoulders. They sit down in groups and sing. Fences litter the area, but most stop and start at random intervals. Some kids a little younger than Kaki and I play atop them, seeing who can balance the farthest without falling. Everyone is thin to the bone. Groups hang out by red drawings, smoking and glowering.


    Authorities walk past. There is no street corner without their patrol. In comparison, their uniforms are much more pristine. They walk around with guns and wear lazy expressions.


    Some of the fences are lined with chains. Plague-ridden men and women sit there, shackled. I pale at the sight.


    ¡°Suns,¡± I whisper. ¡°Suns.¡±


    ¡°Look there, Nadya,¡± Kaki says.


    He points to one of the alleys. The coachman slows. Hanging off the third or fourth story of one of the complexes is a series of quilted skins, ranging from shades of green to brown to read. Each skin has a different adornment on it, most of them done in dark brown and feathers. The sections are choppily cut and sewn. I try to make out what it depicts, until I realize that each square has its own story.


    ¡°It¡¯s a mural,¡± Kaki says, breathless. ¡°A beautiful one.¡±


    ¡°Lightened,¡± Sergeant Norris says.


    That¡¯s when I notice the heap of black right beneath it. ¡°Oh Suns. Suns! Stop, stop! Stop the coach!¡±


    The alley is only large enough to fit Kaki and I shoulder-to-shoulder, and its opening is blocked by six bodies, lined side-by-side. The ones in the front are slumped back in sitting positions. The one furthest to the left has its head resting against its chest. The one to the right leans against it, the one beside that leans on the previous, and so on¡ªa crazy set of fallen cards. Each has skin that is lost of color, hair so thin it is nonexistent. Their faces are more bone than flesh. Two of them have their mouths open, revealing black teeth and tongues. The smell is excruciating.


    The coachman doesn¡¯t stop. And everyone else just walks on by.


    ¡°That¡¯s horrible. That¡¯s horrible,¡± I say.


    ¡°Nadya, calm down,¡± Kaki says.


    ¡°I think I¡¯m going to faint. What in the name of Gerasim and Kirill is that? Why¡ª¡±


    ¡°Those are the Black Streets,¡± says Sergeant Norris. ¡°Where the less Pure let their dead to rot. They will be picked up by the Slaughter Houses soon.¡±


    I try to erase the sight from my memory, to no avail.


    We pass a makeshift playground. In a fenced-off yard, a bunch of crates and broken coaches and run-down pieces of wood are stacked to form a mini headway. There is even a ladder made of vine and a small pit dug in the ground. Three or four kids play with a ball. Laughter rings.


    Everywhere I look, bodies. I cannot tell which I am imagining, making worse in my head when they are really bags of dark trash or shackled near-dead Souls. I replace the scene with the bodes in my mind. ¡°One of them was a child.¡±


    No one responds to me.


    ¡°How long until we¡¯re at the Fyi streets?¡± Kaki calls to the driver.


    ¡°Not too long, Lightened.¡±


    I whisper a Prayer, hoping that those Souls we just saw lived their lives to the fullest and in peace, or as close as you can get to that here.


    The rest of the City is that same balance of beauty and morbid. For every thirty I see smiling and creating music on the streets, I see one shriveled old job moaning and wailing on the front steps of a home. Long lines trail outside of Shops, full of discontent, angry faces. There are fashions I have never seen before in the Fortress, like tattoos on the face or capes with different insignias. I see men and women who have done themselves up to emphasize their own plague. A group of men, half-naked, running around another one of those make-shift playgrounds, screaming and yelling at each other. The authorities running down the street, yelling at them to shut up. They are disturbing public peace. All over, the trees and brush are unkempt, and I see a few men hacking into these thick soles with axes¡ªa practice I have only heard of in rumor at the Fortress; plague mining.


    We take an extraordinarily sharp left turn.


    ¡°Here we are,¡± the coachman says. ¡°These four streets, this cross right here, are the Fyi streets. Where would you like to be dropped off, lightened?¡±


    ¡°Are you even going to be able to find a place to stop? The streets are filled.¡±


    If you didn¡¯t know about the Festival before, you would certainly become aware. The Fyi Streets take up two or three blocks, with about three times as many people than I have seen yet. The coach stutters to a stop because of the sheer amount of coach and foot traffic. Kids, mostly, and teenagers. They distribute paper bags and hang up weaved decorations on all the balconies. The laughter is rambunctious. A few legs away, a group of teens sit with thick metal tins in their laps. They play a slightly inconsistent rhythm. At first, I cover my ears at the shrill noise. But then I notice the kids dancing in front of them.


    Dancing is not quite common in the Fortress, nor is music as abundant. Still, I have never seen this dance; it is nothing like our formal duets at our Balls.


    They are in groups of three, their arms interlinked. They stomp un unison, but each person in the trio does a different movement at a different time. The one on the very left would stomp their left foot, while the middle claps their right hand, while the third jumps up in the air. It looks so primitive but so choreographed.


    ¡°I will have to drop you off here, Lightened,¡± the coachman says after assuring us that the traffic will get better.


    Kaki and I depart, followed by the Sergeants.


    ¡°You do not have to come with us,¡± Kaki says. ¡°We¡¯ll be fine on our own.¡±


    ¡°It is a safety precaution, Lightened.¡±


    ¡°Really, it¡¯s okay.¡±


    They do not budge. The Sergeants march on either side of us as we start our walk down the street. Many eyes turn towards us, frowning at the unusual uniforms. I realize that many of these families may not have seen a military uniform since the War ended. For the first time, people stare because of the Sergeants, not because of Kaki. Without such a conscious audience to reside over him, he seems calmer than I¡¯ve ever seen him, yet that feeling does not extend to myself.


    ¡°What do you think?¡± Kaki says.


    ¡°It¡¯s loud,¡± I say.


    ¡°Do you want to stay and enjoy the Festival?¡±


    I raise my hands to my ears. ¡°It¡¯s loud,¡± I repeat.


    Kaki leans in and whispers, ¡°Jeran lives in a much quieter district of the City.¡± At my silence, he says, ¡°Or we can go back to the Fortress, if this is all too much. I understand. I¡¯ll talk to Jeran a different Moon.¡±


    Go to Jeran, stay here, or what? Because it is loud I will run back to the Fortress? Am I really so unable to adapt? But I want to scream at the sight of those bodies¡ªonly those who have no respect for their dead will let them rot as they do in the Black Streets. These people are not my people. They care not for Praying over the safe passage of their dead Souls. Kaki¡¯s Jeran has no respect for our religion, reading his texts.


    The idea of speaking to someone who disregards such an exquisite rule of our religion makes me vastly uncomfortable. But that was the point of this, wasn¡¯t it?


    But does what Mister Jeran does to his own Purity affect my own?


    ¡°How are we supposed to ditch the Sergeants?¡±


    ¡°I don¡¯t know,¡± he says. ¡°That¡¯s why I liked sneaking out. No one to watch you.¡±


    We walk over to a stand that is set up in front of an old, abandoned building. Or I think it¡¯s abandoned until I see a face inside. The overgrowth and general rucketness of the structure did not make it seem anything like inhabited. The stand in front has pictures drawn of pies. Meat pies, being baked fresh outside on a fire and hot stone-stove by three elderly women, with slightly plague-ridden carrots. They are humming a tune together, in harmony. A long line comes from the front, but I notice there is a second line from the back. Before I can wonder as to what that is, Kaki grabs my sleeve.


    ¡°Look. Those are the orphans.¡±


    They walk in drones. Three giant crowds of children led by a single patron each. They are ragged, tired things. Thin and barefoot, they walk hand-in-hand. Many seem petrified, wide-eyed and gaping at all the sights around them. Some slump, some grin.


    Rounds of applause come from various crowds; whistling and animalistic noises.


    ¡°Yeah, finally free from your prisons!¡± a voice calls.


    Lights go off. Red and green. I am not sure what they¡¯re made of, but they illuminate the children.


    People shove through us, making room in the center of the intersection for the children.


    The patrons speak to the kids, telling them they are allowed to roam free on the Fyi Streets only. They start to pass out necklaces and weaved laurels with white bone heads.


    ¡°These are gifts from the community,¡± one of the patrons says. ¡°Look around you. They¡¯s are here to support you all. Look over there, at that man. He has scarves for you all, for the Cold Season. Go, grab them! But makes lines. Lines! Lines!¡±


    Two of the groups follow suit.


    Kaki leans towards me. ¡°I know how we can ditch the Sergeants,¡± he whispers. ¡°When the authorities come, you and I? We run.¡±


    ¡°What do you mean, ¡®when the authorities come?¡¯¡± He says nothing and I glare. ¡°Kaki, don¡¯t be annoying.¡±


    The last of the orphaned children groups remains in the center. The patron turns around. Both of her eyes are covered with a rag tied around her head. Running down both cheeks are the remnants of scars. I can only assume they are from her eyes. She has lost both hands, stumps now, and blackened. Two children grip her right leg and another tugs anxiously at her skirt.


    The kids in the last group have formed themselves into five lines, each with five kids. The first row are on their knees, hitting the ground over and over with their palms. The second row is pounding upon the first row¡¯s head. Gently, I think. The third and fourth rows stand utterly still.


    The children then reach into their cloak pockets. Each carry a large vial of a white liquid. Confused murmurs siphon through the crowds.


    The man that had been selling the black feathers steps out of the crowd. He waves a dramatic hand. ¡°My dear Giselle spent her life fighting for children like these¡­.¡±


    Suddenly, an onslaught of yelling. I look to my right to see the authorities unsling their guns and rush forwards, but the crowd shoves them backwards. The Sergeants grab Kaki and I and push us behind them, unslinging their own weapons.


    ¡°...each of these children are Birds without Wings,¡± he announces. ¡°Cut off from birth. Not only do they lack family, but they lack freedom. We¡¯re all aware of this.¡±


    He has to grow louder to be heard over the chaos that erupts, but no one can get past the protective barrier around the vial-holding children.


    ¡°Each of these kids has a vial. Some hold a life-threatening poison. Others a sweet marmalade drink of the freshest fruits. They look the same and have a similar scent. Each is labeled. Can anyone here tell me which vial is which? They are labeled! They are labeled!¡±


    Furious, outrageous cries come from all about. I can make out no words.


    ¡°He¡¯s going to kill them,¡± I say to Kaki. ¡°He¡¯s going to kill those kids.¡±


    ¡°No,¡± Kaki says. ¡°He won¡¯t.¡±


    ¡°Where are the Suns?¡± Giselle¡¯s husband screams. ¡°Where are they to ask for guidance? The Moons watch over us now! Someone tell me, before I command these children to take a sip!¡±


    The screamings of the crowds grow even more intense. People wearing the laurels and bone-beads that the children handed out protect them from the bustling authorities. I am shoved forcefully into Kaki, my plague-ridden knees crying out in pain, who wraps his arm around me and keeps me there. They are going to riot. This wasn¡¯t a festival at all. Or maybe it started as one, but the old man¡¯s fliers, the words I couldn¡¯t read, must have indicated it to be something else. It was an invitation.


    There is a glimmer in Kaki¡¯s eye. ¡°You knew,¡± I whisper. ¡°How did you know?¡±


    I don¡¯t even know if he hears me.


    He grabs my arm and drags me into the opposite direction, away as the Sergeants fight to keep the crowd stable, acting on instinct. Sergeant Mitia yells, ¡°Lightened? Lightened! Hey, where are you going?¡±


    ¡°Run for me,¡± Kaki pants.


    ¡°What?¡±


    ¡°Use your gift! Run for me, Nadya!¡±


    A gunshot goes off. I make the mistake of looking over my shoulder.


    The bullet landed just between the man who sold me the black feathers. I register my scream but I do not hear it.


    Then I start running, towing Kaki in hand, nearly dragging him through this City¡¯s streets.


    ***


    When we finally stop, I register that I have no idea at all where we are.


    Then I begin to hyperventilate. The streets all look the same and I cannot see the Moons so there is little light, for the lights have broken here, and I¡¯ve seen more dead bodies in this one night than I¡¯ve ever seen in my entire life, and the sounds of the drums blare in my ears, and the sound of the gunshot that shot that man right in the forehead.


    Kaki grabs me by the shoulders. ¡°I¡¯m sorry, Nadya. I¡¯m sorry. Hey, look at me. It¡¯s okay. It¡¯s okay¡ª¡±


    ¡°You knew!¡± I screech. ¡°You knew that that was what was going to happen, you know¡ª¡±


    ¡°I didn¡¯t know beforehand or else I wouldn¡¯t have let us go, but I saw the bone beads and¡ªNadya, calm down. It¡¯s okay. You¡¯re okay. You¡¯re not in danger, okay? I¡¯m sorry. I really am.¡±


    I say nothing. I only look ahead. I cannot quite tell what the black speck a few legs away is, but I imagine it to be a body, half dead, reaching out to me with a shaking arm. Kaki slowly turns me to face the other direction.


    ¡°I¡¯m sorry,¡± he repeats. ¡°I thought¡ªI don¡¯t know what I thought. Do you want to go back to the Fortress? We can go back to the Fortress.¡±


    I find myself shaking my head.


    Missus Yarna thought that to want to experience something new was to take what you have for granted, but I disagree. I think I¡¯ve never appreciated my life more until this moment. My thoughts are jumbled and I cannot seem to speak. My heart races much too fast and my legs hurt so much from the running¡ªor maybe they shake because of my nerves. Either way, I cling to the edge of the tired old building beside us, the wood digging into my nails.


    Why would the Suns allow this City to be in such a state? I wonder. It is a surprisingly clear thought considering that I feel as though I cannot breathe.


    ¡°Okay,¡± Kaki says. ¡°Are you sure¡ª¡±


    ¡°Show me your friend,¡± I say, my voice hoarse. ¡°Your Jeran.¡±


    Prove to me there is something good here, that when I look out the balconies and imagine a life beyond the mountains, it is not all like this. Prove to me the Suns look after good Souls here. Prove to me the Fortress is not the greatest achievement the Suns believe we can achieve.


    Kaki said that we have to face the uncomfortable to learn: if this is learning, I think I would rather remain ignorant and stupid.

 Ash and Stone XIII - Asaio

    ASAIO


    An odd warmth fills my chest.


    We could die. It¡¯s happened before. Multiple times. I remember each one clear as the sea, can still feel their faces beneath my fingers, the shadows of ghost hands and the warmth of their skin beneath my lips. Some Moons, I wake up in the cot I share with Seht and Ellie-Darlin, and I ain¡¯t sure if I¡¯m holdin a ghost.


    But, still. That single nod of confirmation. As we¡¯re bout to move as a unit. It¡¯s exhiliaratin. It¡¯s beautiful. It¡¯s what makes gangs like the Rubies or Lime Men so attractive.


    Vernon makes the first move, extendin his limbs and wrappin them round the licker¡¯s head. It¡¯s a crazy sight and somethin that most ain¡¯t seen before. Problem is, when his limbs are extended like that, he says he feels a pain so blisterin it''s hard to focus, makin it a hell of a lot easier for someone to get a shot at him. Still, he grabs that man and he chokes him.


    The licker¡¯s better, though. He kicks at Vernon¡¯s knees and swings him onto the ground.


    Another licker grabs at Mustletop and Genavieve, who work together to keep the assailants away, but Mustletop, with his large stature, does most of the work. Genavieve was only blessed with an extra finger, along with chronic back pain.


    Shimmy turns to run in the other direction. He flips out his cloak, where vials hang on a belt. He¡¯s able to conjure up poisonous spit, but at such little quantities that it¡¯s useless on its own. However, smart as he is, he came up with the idea of creatin his own poisonous vials, as his poision can disintegrate skin. He launches them at the lickers that attack Genevieve and Mustle.


    ¡°We should help,¡± Ellie-Darlin says.


    ¡°Yeah,¡± I say.


    I don¡¯t want to tire myself too much, though, cause I¡¯m dead useless if I faint before we can exit, and I definitely don¡¯t want the lickers to get me again. But I¡¯d much rather than any of my family be taken away. Our time is limited as it is.


    ¡°I¡¯ll stay up here,¡± I say. ¡°Go.¡±


    I watch as Kim slips between the legs of two lickers and a Ruby, grabs the balls of the larger one, and drags him down. Even though he¡¯s the youngest, he¡¯s ferocious. The Moon we found him half-dead in that sewer, we knew he was a fighter, whether it¡¯d been a self-inflicted attack or not.


    It¡¯s hard to keep track of everyone. I don¡¯t know where ELlie Darlin¡¯s leapt off to cause Yaselle¡¯s bUgs are still tryin to track down the remainin Five Pitters, who are tryin to get into their coaches and high-tail it. The Rubies, who seem to be on the side of the Pitters, try to stop em. Punches and bullets and blood. Lots and lots of blood. No one¡¯s close enough to my hidin spot, so I start walkin round the roof, tryin to find a better position to extend my branches.


    Suddenly, an arrow hits the back of one of the men clawin at Genavieve and Mustletop.


    I look over and try to spot him. Nothin. Just as well.


    On the Damaskragan red ship, the crew frantically screams at one another. The ship burnin next to is nearly half-drowned in the sea. I try to look out for Crass and the others, but I can¡¯t make out anythin through the travelin smoke.I cough into my sleeve and raise my hands, callin upon the whispers of the branches and leaves beside me.


    Some of them are more plague-ridden than others. Those are harder to speak to , the closer they sway towards death. They fight me, spasmin against my mind, sendin waves of pain and frustration that can be enough to cause a blackout into my bones, as though to say, This is what it feels like to be plague-ridden. This is what it¡¯s like to lose control.


    I want to block off the litters, to keep them away from the other docks and from the edge of Harbor Street, but how?


    Yaselle yells for the Pitters to disappear, from atop one of the check-in buildins. I have no clue when she got up there. Any men that venture towards her are brusquely met with her parasol, jabbed into eyes and mouths and then slit by a knife. She laughs when she does it, and so do her Bugs. The Pitters stand no chance against a woman like that. Once her gang and the Rubies ain¡¯t distracted anymore, they¡¯ll focus way too much on us. That warm feelin in my chest grows to be a sea of calm. Fights are all too familiar, and so I¡¯ve learned to keep from panickin. Instead, I shut down the part of my brain that sees people as people and take out my enemies one root at a time, drownin them beneath pounds of timber.


    ¡°Aye, get out of here kids! I¡¯m not gonna stop the lickers from takin you!¡± Yaselle yells. She turns to shout at the rest of her Bugs that are in pursuit of the fleein Pitters. ¡°Let them go! Let them go!¡±


    She turns to one of the Rubies. He has decorated his face to highlight the moldin black skin and growths on his cheek. She uses her parasol to puncture one of his warts, causin him to scream out, and says, ¡°You and I. ¡°We¡¯re going to have a chat, sweetie.¡±


    ¡°Just let us¡ª¡± Vernon tries. One of the lickers grabs him at the back and yanks his elongated arm. I hear a sickenin crack. I ain¡¯t sure if it¡¯s his bones or the shackles the licker thrusts from his pockets.


    Shimmy runs to cover Vernon¡¯s back while I finally catch sight of Ellie-Darlin again. She runs towards the water¡¯s edge, through the smoke. She drops in a skid at the front of the docks and hauls Crimson, who carries three boxes on his back, out of the ocean.


    That group was supposed to come through the black, but they can¡¯t with the port burnin up. Even from here, I can see the tears on Ellie-Darlin¡¯s face as she fights the bickerin flames. She throws her cloak at a nearby sprout and screams incoherently. Black blood drips from her nose and, when she takes a moment¡¯s pause for rest, her entire body slumps face-first into the wooden port. Crimson screams, ¡°Get up! Get up! Are you stupid!¡±


    I wave half the branches into a bridge that will open up once Crimson makes it over to the wall. I send another branch to yank back the licker that¡¯s got Vernon. Vernon¡¯s been shot with a musket, and this licker has the body to my friend¡¯s head. The branch don¡¯t reach him, but the slitherin timber trips a Ruby. I wrap the branch round the Ruby¡¯s angle and throw him into Vernon adn the licker.


    ¡°What the fuck was that?¡± the Ruby cries. The plague on his back is decorated with jewels and exposed by a lack of coverin.


    ¡°Go, go, go!¡± Ellie-Darlin yells to Crimson, pointin in my direction. He has to dodge the nippin edges of flame to get to me. Crass is almost at the dock. A guy on the red ship points a gun at them.


    ¡°Gun!¡± I yell, and I click the warnin signs, cause that¡¯s louder than my voice.


    An arrow whizzes over Ellie-Darlin¡¯s head. She drops to the ground and Crass leaps back into the ocean for cover.


    As Crimson makes his way, I command the branches to wrap round his waist and haul him onto the rooftop. At the same time, I send another at a remainin licker that runs towards Ellie-Darlin, catchin his musket and then his foot. I swing him against the side of a check-in buildin, effectively smashin the wooden stall.


    A couple of Rubies and Bugs glance round, tryin to find out why a tree moves on its own violation. I tighten up the brush that keeps Crimson and I out of sight as he falls to my side, the huge boxes strapped to his back. He shakes and buckles beneath the weight, but adrenaline keeps him from collapsin.


    ¡°Should I go?¡± he asks.


    ¡°What? Yes, you should go!¡±


    ¡°Fuck,¡± he curses, and skids cross the rooftop.


    Two lickers pound at Genavieve. I¡¯m not close enough to help em and Ellie Darlin¡¯s already sendin Ana my way, who has four similar boxes tied to her back.


    ¡°They¡¯re stealing something!¡± one Ruby yells.


    ¡°Leave them. They¡¯re just kids,¡± Yaselle snarls.


    More builts rain down from the red ship.


    ¡°You bitch,¡± a different Ruby snaps. ¡°Just kids? That ship¡¯s the Tinkerer¡¯s!¡±


    ¡°Your score isn¡¯t settled,¡± the first Ruby says. ¡°You said you¡¯d get Heish from the Pitters, no matter the outcome.¡±


    ¡°I don¡¯t know where he is. He¡¯s probably off with the civilians, Mister Boy.¡±


    The Ruby grabs her by the neck. ¡°You listen here, woman¡ª¡±


    I send our branches to haul up Ana. Unlike Crimson, she runs past me and the path I¡¯ve cleared without a word.


    Vip and Ellie-Darlin drag a passed-out Crass from the depths of the blue seas. Both Crass and Vip have boxes tied to their backs, and it slows them down a lot. Two bullets hit Vip square in the shoulders.


    I extend my branches as far as they are able. I step out from my hidin spot and try to lift Crass and Vip off the ground, but it ain¡¯t any use. The more I whisper to the trees, the more their energy saps my own, and I fall to my knees. It¡¯s too much for me to stand. My ears ring and I feel several of my external limbs slip away.


    Yaselle looks over at me from her own rooftop. Legs away, we stand at the highest points of the battle; my cloak of black and her veil of white.


    Mustletop hauls Genavieve and Kim away, kickin a licker in the stomach. All three leave a trail of blood, and a desperate civilian who was unfortunately caught in the crossfire crawls out to drink it, sobbin. Mustletop uses his thick skin and the extra layer of protective scales moldin beneath his cloak as a shield for the other two.


    Vernon makes a break for it. The lickers run at all four of em. Black spots dot my vision, so it¡¯s like time happens in fragments flashes of moments; not a continuous momentum.


    A licker catches Kim by the foot. An electrifier to the thigh. Kim screamin, foully, and Mustletop throwin himself onto the licker. Kim rolls out from beneath the heap, unconscious. Mustletop pickin him up. That group runnin towards Harbor Street, where the civilians were shoved off to.


    Once they are close enough, I send branches to pick up Crass, Ellie-Darlin, and Vip. They make a break for it behind me while I seal off our exit.


    The bullets from the red ship trail them. They travel farther than any of the licker¡¯s muskets do. The muskets are probably less than a fifth of the distance that ship is, and yet the bullets from the Damaskragan red ship nip Genaveive¡¯s heel. Coaches zoom past them, the coaches of the Pitters. They barrel into Vernon on purpose. They run into civilian lines and snatch up young women and children, who scream defenselessly. With the Rubies preoccupied, there is no one to guard the harbor as usual.


    I look round for Shimmy and Asher, but all I see are remainin Rubies and Bugs, and at least twelve desecrated bodies. One is headless.


    ¡°Shimmy! Asher!¡± I yell. When I get no response, I curse. Suddenly, the barricade I¡¯ve made round the harbor collapses. I can¡¯t find the energy to sustain it, and it all happens in an extremely dramatic manner, as though I¡¯ve summoned a rumble. Some of the trees fall into the ocean, slumped over, like they¡¯ve been drained of life too.


    ¡°Are the Pure Ones here?¡± someone yells. ¡°What¡¯s going on?¡±


    ¡°What the hell!¡± I hear. ¡°That kid! He¡¯s doin it!¡±


    ¡°I have her!¡± Back towards the alley that Shimmy and Mustle had blocked off with the crates, Asher stands with a limp Shimmy in his arms; his face black and blue but no worse for wear. He sounds much farther than he is. ¡°Asaio!¡±


    I nod and try to close up the blockade that covers this entrance. Dozens of more men run at me. I don¡¯t know where they came from. The whispers grow so loud they destroy the rest of my hearin. Black spots come in drones.


    No, no, no. I look back to where the others had scattered off the rooftop and into the heart of the City. They¡¯re dozens upon dozens of legs away now, too far to help me. Stay awake, stay awake, stay awake.


    I give up on tryin to cover my track and run, slippin a few times as my balance fails me. Coughs sputter through my chest as my body finally registers the smoke I¡¯ve inhaled. I only make it a few legs when I slip down a near vertical rain gutter. I gasp. I try to claw at the wooden shingles of the roof, splinterin pain coursin through my fingers.


    ¡°Aah!¡± I gasp as my hold weakens.


    Suddenly, a cold hand grips my arm and hauls me up.


    I know immediately this hand is too cold and wrinkly to be one of the Garnets. This figure hauls me onto the rooftop and holds me against her chest.


    Yaselle, one of the Yaselles, breathes against me. She wears a dark brown dress and a silver laurel beneath her black skin coat. It beckson in the wind. It reeks of blood.


    I try to release myself from her grip and bolt in the direction of my family. I send a few branches over the rooftop to shackle her legs. It takes me nearly screamin, orally, at the branches for them to comply. I¡¯m so damn tired that they don¡¯t hold her for more than a second. More dots flash my vision, to the point where I am nearly half-blind.


    I try to run again, but somethin hooks onto my shoulder. It¡¯s the end of her parasol. She yanks me backwards, so that I land on my backside.


    ¡°Asaio,¡± she says. ¡°That¡¯s your name. You¡¯re going to come with me.¡±


    I have a branch whack her in the head. To my surprise, she laughs at me. She starts to talk, but I can¡¯t hear a word.


    Then I black out completely.


    ***


    I wake up tied to a chair. My wrists are bound together with metal chains, real old ones. It ain¡¯t uncommon for families to have these lyin round, cause that¡¯s how you keep back a plague-ridden man from killin you in your sleep, but I ain¡¯t plague-ridden. I ain¡¯t even got the plague. My legs are bound to the legs of the chair and my arms are bount to he sides. Another is wrapped round my chest, which is now bare and cold. There¡¯re even shackles that keep the chain to the ground.


    Ain¡¯t the first time somethin like this has happened to me. We got into a real bad fight with some other gang of street kids while there was a shortage of wheat crop over a loaf of bread and they¡¯d taken Vernon and I for ransom. Not very well¡ªthey weren¡¯t much brighter than ourselves¡ªbut still. Even further than that, workin with Seran: I¡¯d been an actor and some loafer, ironically, liked my performance so much he¡¯d try to buy for me. Seran wouldn¡¯t let him so he tried to chuck me into his carriage, dark like this room.


    Still, I hate it. I hate bein separated¡ªif I am separated at all. Who knows if she caught any of my friends in the next room? But there¡¯s no good in panickin.


    I struggle against the chains. They¡¯re so rusted they look like they can snap, but they¡¯re sturdier than they seem. The chains are locked together, but I¡¯d never been a good pick. Most of the doors in our nieghborhoods ain¡¯t got doors to lock, so there¡¯s no use.


    In front of me, a door.


    As if knowin I¡¯ve woken up by some sixth sense, it swings open, revealin Yaselle. She has not changed but the blood strains are dry on that skin dress so I must have been out for a while.


    ¡°I had to get my hands on you before the Rubies could.¡±


    I can¡¯t tell where I am. The walls ain''t made of wood or anythin. It¡¯s all gray. Stone, I think, and utterly dark except for a single shroomlamp.


    ¡°My Bugs said they¡¯ve seen you and your friends before, Asaio,¡± she says. Somethin bout the way this Yaselle feels different than the one at the docks. And, I might be imaginin it, but I think she¡¯s shorter too. ¡°Street rats that steal from our coffers sometimes, or sometimes you pull pranks on tourists. Not anything recently. You¡¯ve been hiding, keeping to yourselves. I often do not mind because you are just kids. But you¡¯re not just a kid, are you, Asaio? You¡¯ve flown under the radar all this time.¡±


    Did Asher and Shimmy make it out? What bout Mustletop and Kim and Genavieve? What if she¡¯s got all the Garnets?


    ¡°Is it just me?¡± I say.


    ¡°What?¡±


    ¡°Did you only take me?¡±


    She cocks her head. She wears a thin white veil over her face. ¡°Yes. It¡¯s only you, Asaio.¡±


    I don¡¯t know if I believe her or not. I should have really been payin more attention to Venron¡¯s talks and presentations with his less-than-adequate ¡®files¡¯ on other gang leaders in the City. The Rubies, they¡¯re violent. They¡¯re ruthless. But control don¡¯t come from just violence. Control can be tellin the truth ninety percent of the time, so no one notices that ten percent.


    The narrative has been taken without authorization; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident.


    Yaselle saved all those innocent lives. It¡¯s clear she ain¡¯t like them Rubies.


    ¡°I promise,¡± she says, as if she can read my mind.


    ¡°What do you want from me?¡±


    ¡°I want to have a conversation, Asaio. I¡¯m sorry about the shackles, by the way. I would have loved to have a more¡­ civil discussion, but I can¡¯t be too careful with someone like you.¡±


    Someone like me? I¡¯d understand if I were big like Mustletop, maybe, or skilled with a weapon, like Asher. But I ain¡¯t. So this is about my tree-whisperin.


    We all knew that, some Moon, someone would realize I ain¡¯t quite natural, that the plague don¡¯t touch me. I should have worn my mask at the harbor and kept my face hidden. But that wouldn¡¯t have mattered. She would have caught me anyway.


    Still, I deflect. ¡°I think you¡¯re overestimatin me.¡±


    ¡°Your eyes,¡± she murmurs, leanin forward. ¡°I¡¯ve never seen eyes like yours.¡±


    ¡°The two colors really ain¡¯t the miracle everyone treats them like, lady.¡±


    ¡°Such a deformed face.¡±


    ¡°Well, damn.¡±


    ¡°Do you know what you are, Asaio?¡±


    ¡°That¡¯s real ominous.¡±


    ¡°So, no,¡± she says. ¡°That¡¯s surprising. At least one of your friends should have realized by now. Or maybe they have and¡ª¡±


    ¡°Realize what, lady? I don¡¯t like it when people ain¡¯t just direct.¡±


    ¡°I believe,¡± she says slowly, ¡°that you are an anomaly, Asaio. You were controlling the trees, yes? And¡±--she pokes my chest¡ª¡±you show no sign of the plague. Do you know fo the Rivera Prophecies?¡±


    ¡°I mean, yeah, I¡¯ve heard of em. I don¡¯t know em by heart.¡±


    The Rivera Prophecies are the ones that say there can only be three Enlighteneds at one time, who¡¯ve died and be rebirthed as near gods. One representin Kirill. One representin Gerasim. And one representin the eight moons. Right now, all three are supposed to be livin in that fancy stone capital next door.


    Instantly, I understand her meanin. ¡°No way,¡± I say. ¡°Nuh-uh.¡±


    ¡°Each has a power gifted to them from the Sun or Moons,¡± she says. ¡°Different than any of our gifts. For us, our gifts are always an extension of our Souls. Strong legs, strong arms, good hearing, elongated limbs¡ªthat is one I have yet to see, Asaio. I was surprised by your friend. Yet, you. You are an anomaly. The Enlighteneds harness the Sun. Harness the ocean waves. Harness the winds with just a thought. Control our environments without even touching them.¡±


    ¡°I¡ª¡±


    ¡°I think you¡¯re an anomaly.¡± She smiles, but it¡¯s an unnatural smile, like her face wasn¡¯t built for it and she¡¯s learned to move those muscles by observin others. ¡°If you are here, has an Enlightened in the Fortress died? But you have been like this all your life, haven¡¯t you, Asaio?¡±


    ¡°Yeah,¡± is all I say.


    I remember the Moon that Sans and Isaela found out I could do this. Sans had grabbed me by the shoulders and dragged me into her apothecary. ¡°Did your orphanage know?¡± she demanded. ¡°Have you shown people? Who have you shown?¡± Then she leaned down, ensurin we were eye-to-eye, and whispered, ¡°This is no gift, Asaio. You¡¯re so young¡­ don¡¯t let the lickers find out about this. They will hurt you. Isaela, you tell no one, you hear me? You tell no one.¡±


    Of course, I¡¯ve had to tell the other Garnets. But if they¡¯ve ever had their suspicions bout this, then they ain¡¯t said anythin to me.


    ¡°Whether it be that an Enlightened has died or the prophecies are wrong, you are likely the only Soul in all of Mecraentos that is destined to live a long, long life, Asaio. Your mind will stay Pure. You have power the rest of us cannot fathom, Asaio¡ªor that is what I am to believe. I¡¯ve not actually seen an Enlightened. None of us have, Asaio. To some, you will be a miracle, Asaio.¡±


    ¡°I¡ª¡±


    ¡°To others, a demon. And, to people like the Rubies, you are about to be a very, very powerful tool. You should have stayed out of sight, Asaio.¡±


    I was tryin to, lady.


    But, despite Sans¡¯ strong reaction to my powers, I ain¡¯t ever had any real sense of danger regardin them. So there was never any real pressin need to.


    ¡°It¡¯s just a title, ain¡¯t it?¡± I say. ¡°It¡¯s not like it changes anythin bout me.¡±


    ¡°But it does. It really does. It means you could be a god, Asaio.¡±


    ¡°That¡ªokay.¡± My thoughts are churnin fast.


    A god?


    Somehow, that feels like it means a lot less than Kamon¡¯s potential offer of power through climbin up the ranks of the City. Because what can a god do? Kirill and Gersim didn¡¯t intervene to save Seran. They never cured Mono-Man or the Gem Lady. They ain¡¯t gonna save Sans, or Isaela from her mother¡¯s wrath when she loses her mind.


    It don''t give Vernon the money and certification he needs to start his own orphanage. It don¡¯t give Uyala or Kim a better chance at growin up with more than they got now. It don¡¯t change the fact that Michie¡¯s countin the days till his death on one hand. It don¡¯t change the fact that I¡¯m shackled up in an unfamiliar place right now, captured.


    ¡°Asaio?¡±


    ¡°A tool,¡± I repeat. ¡°You sayin the Rubies are gonna come after me?¡±


    ¡°Oh, definitely,¡± she says. ¡°You do not realize, Asaio, how revered the Enlightened are. Nearly every single Soul in Mecraentos prays hour after hour, prays after debt to the Soul Purifiers, get their Souls checked and cleanses every three Moons, just so that, one Moon, their fractures may¡ª¡±


    ¡°I know, lady. You don¡¯t got to explain it all like I¡¯m dumb or somethin,¡± I interrupt.


    Some of the Garnets still Pray and get their Souls checked. But, with the exception of Shis, none of em are really devout devout.


    It hits me that, if what Yaselle¡¯s sayin is true, that I am the ideal person.


    ¡°When word gets out, everyone will want a taste of you. Literally and metaphorically. Some people believe that the fastest way to become Enlightened and to be cured of the plague is to drink the blood of an Enlightened. Only few think that, but they exist. And I¡¯m sure there are many less devout desperate enough to at least try.¡±


    ¡°So you got to me first,¡± I say. ¡°What? As a bargainin chip? So when the Rubies come knockin on your door, or the lickers, or whoever, you can say, ¡®Give me blah blah blah, and I¡¯ll give you Asaio?¡¯¡±


    ¡°A wonderful idea, Asaio.¡± I realize that, this entire time, she has not moved. It scares me, the way she stares like a statue. Her clear skin and wide eyes make it feel like she¡¯s less a person and more a doll. She keeps that grin on her face, and it twitches a bit. The green light of the shroom lamp makes her feel even less real, slightly blurred by the veil. Like she is a doll. With only a light and a smile, she¡¯s completely changed her own image. Enlightened. The word echoes in the back of my mind.


    She continues, ¡°But no. Asaio, you¡¯ve made yourself much too valuable to be in the hands of those brutes. I want you to work for me.¡±


    ¡°Lady¡ª¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s better than the authorities finding out about you and, after your stunt at the docks, they will. You¡¯ll be sent to the Slaughter Houses, easy. And you know that.¡±


    ¡°It ain¡¯t a very fun place,¡± I concede.


    ¡°I will not hurt you like the authorities or any other group likely will, Asaio. I can promise you that.¡±


    ¡°What would you have me do then? I¡¯m just as much a tool to you as the Rubies,¡± I say, noddin at my chains.


    ¡°You¡¯re right, Asaio. But at least I am upfront about it,¡± she says. ¡°People are vessels. Pieces. You are a powerful one, but I know very little about Enlighteneds for I¡¯ve never had any cause to, so I don¡¯t know. You were a surprise today. I am an honest woman, Asaio. I have no plans for you, not yet. I am investing in opportunity. We will be taking steps together, side by side.¡±


    I remain silent.


    Finally, that grin comes off her face. ¡°How old are you?¡±


    ¡°Don¡¯t know.¡±


    ¡°You don¡¯t know?¡±


    ¡°Nope.¡±


    ¡°I know many young boys that would have jumped at the opportunity for power like this.¡± She says this like it¡¯s supposed to be enticin. ¡°You could have entire blocks wrapped around a zealous finger, if you play your cards right. Cities could fall in your name, or they could be restored.¡±


    ¡°I don¡¯t know what zealous means, but it sounds like jealous and that ain¡¯t great.¡±


    She makes a sound between a laugh and a scoff.


    ¡°And,¡± I say, pullin once again at my restraints, ¡°I wouldn¡¯t really have the power, would I? You would.¡±


    ¡°An interesting question,¡± she says, ¡°that may only be answered with time.¡±


    ¡°How can I trust you, when I don¡¯t even know your name?¡±


    ¡°Yaselle.¡±


    ¡°There¡¯s three of you.¡±


    ¡°That¡¯s just our nature.¡±


    ¡°Just our nature,¡± I repeat. ¡°Well, nah. No thanks.¡±


    ¡°Oh?¡±


    ¡°If I don¡¯t agree to work for you, be your Enlightened toy, what? You¡¯re just gonna leave me here to starve till I do?¡±


    ¡°That was an option. But, no. Name your terms. You see, this is a very atypical question. The recruiting process for potential Bugs is vastly different than this. Other than safety, what would it take for you to join us? Money? I have plenty. A place for your friends to stay? I can build you that. Now that we have the seventh harbor, our elevated income will greatly increase.¡±


    I blink. ¡°Just like that?¡±


    ¡°Yes.¡±


    ¡°That¡¯s not true. You adults¡ªyou two-time. That¡¯s your nature.¡±


    ¡°The only thing that separates me from you is time,¡± she says lightly.


    ¡°I have to talk to my family,¡± I say. ¡°Let me go. No matter what you offer me, it don¡¯t matter unless I talk to them first.¡±


    ¡°You do realize, Asaio, that the second you step out of here¡ª¡±


    ¡°Where is here, by the way?¡±


    To my surprise, she tells me, with no hesitation. ¡°An old underground passage used during the War for escapees. Most of them have been filled in by the Industry or the nobles so none of us can get out of the City without getting by the Watch. They missed this one.¡±


    ¡°Why¡ª¡±


    ¡°Why bring you here? Look around. No wood. Just dirt and stone, Asaio.¡±


    ¡°Right.¡±


    ¡°You do realize,¡± she continues, ¡°the second you step out of this tunnel, you are putting your friends in danger of the Rubies, or the lickers, or the Lime Men, or anyone else?¡±


    ¡°They¡¯re in danger cause those people know that they were in contact with me. Ain¡¯t it worse if teh lickers come for them and they say they don¡¯t know where I am? They¡¯ll all be arrested.¡±


    ¡°Yes. Perhaps.¡±


    ¡°So you should let me go. So I can check on em. Cause if I agree to work with you and then I find out they''re all dead, I¡¯m killin myself next.¡±


    ¡°Extreme. Except I have already sent my own to check on them.¡±


    ¡°You¡ªwhat?¡±


    ¡°Yes. I know. I¡¯m telling you, Asaio. I am different than the other gangs. I believe in organized change. My Bugs are trained. Despite not being as well know as the Rubies or Lime Men, I ensure my men and women can defend themselves.¡± I remember her terrifyin moves with the parasol. I don¡¯t doubt that one bit. ¡°We can prevent them from doing anything to your orphan family while the lickers scrape around the City, on the hunt for you.¡±


    ¡°That seems too good to be true.¡±


    ¡°It does, doesn¡¯t it, Asaio?¡±


    The Gem Lady was too good to be true. At least Mono-Man was upfront bout himself. The Gem Lady made us believe we were special¡ªall of us. We hadn¡¯t realized we were signin ourselves up to be indentured servants until the day she died.


    Even if she don¡¯t have a plan now, whatever that plan is, it¡¯ll undermine whatever friendly facade she puts on now.


    But I know damn well there¡¯s no way she¡¯s gonna let me leave. And I know she¡¯s right bout the fact that I shouldn¡¯t or else I¡¯ll have the whole City poundin on my back.


    ¡°Your powers are too special to be wasted on a life of petty thievery,¡± she says. ¡°And I won¡¯t take advantage of your powers. I want to elevate you. You will be a hero to this City, Asaio. Trust me. Do you know when I started the Bugs?¡±


    ¡°No.¡± I know it was recent, that her gang sort of popped out of nowhere, but it was always the other Garnets that keep up to date with that stuff. Besides, most of our run-ins have been with the Lime Men.


    ¡°Six Peakings ago.¡±


    I widen my eyes.


    ¡°Yes,¡± she says. ¡°Recently .I am good at obtaining what I want, and I am not an asshole about it, Asaio. You can trust me.¡±


    ¡°I need to talk to my family,¡± I repeat.


    ¡°I could bring them here,¡± she says. ¡°If that would make you feel better.¡±


    ¡°I don¡¯t think any of them would like that idea.¡± Compared to the Gem Lady, some of others have had far worse encounters with two-timin adults. ¡°You said you could build my family a home. We already got one.¡±


    ¡°It was easy enough for my Bugs to locate your warehouse. It will be even easier for the lickers when they come for you.¡±


    Dread rolls through me. I love that place. It¡¯s the longest ¡®home¡¯ I¡¯ve stayed in. The idea of losin it is more painful than I would like to admit, cause it¡¯s just a place, and I was never one to believe that home was a place.


    ¡°I can build you and your friends a haven, where no one else will hurt you. I already have ideas as to how I am to do that.¡±


    I narrow my eyes. ¡°You ain¡¯t gonna start two-timin, are you? You build us a home, what are you gonna have em do? They gonna be part of whatever you want to use me for? Jobs for you, like the kids at The Shaver?¡±


    She finally changes her expression. Her brows get all scrunches and her nose flairs. I realize I¡¯ve offended her.


    ¡°I keep those kids as safe as they can be,¡± she says evenly. ¡°And no. Judging from the way you said that, Asaio, you want them to keep all their freedom, though I would not be opposed to new members in my ranks, if they so choose.¡±


    Too good to be true.


    ¡°Regardless of whether or not you were exposed as an Enlightened, you would have needed such protection anyways, considering what you did at the docks. Perhaps it would be good to have your name merge beneath the shadow of mine.¡±


    ¡°We ain¡¯t strangers to theft, lady.¡±


    She cocks her head. ¡°Do you realize you stole from the Tinkerer?¡±


    I shake mine. ¡°No.¡±


    ¡°Well. Needless to say, he is a powerful man, Asaio. One you should not have crossed paths with. But I can sort that out for your friends, too. I have deals with powerful people.¡±


    I can think of nothin else to say except, ¡°Thank you.¡±


    I could demand money. She would give it to me, but us Garnets care so little bout that. But the fact that she would give it to me is dangerous. I try to keep my thoughts in order, but she stands so temptingly. I want to trust her. I want to believe that she can turn me into a hero for this City, that my powers may be more than just a weird manifestation of the plague. I keep thinkin of Sans, of her panicked hushes to me. I knew a Moon like this would come, and I want to believe myself lucky that she was the first to find me.


    But there are no heroes in this City. If there are any fundamental laws on these streets, that is the first. And I am still chained to a chair.


    I am more than wary of her. We spend a few moments, just starin, checkin each other. I cannot tell where the plague manifests in her.


    There comes a knockin at the front door.


    Yaselle whips around, her black hair flowin across her shoulders gracefully. ¡°If this isn¡¯t an emergency¡ª¡±


    ¡°There¡¯s a kid here. And he says he has Heish.¡±


    ¡°What?¡±


    ¡°Not with him. But he says that he¡¯s hiding him and will give the order to kill him if he does not speak with you.¡±


    ¡°A Pitter?¡±


    ¡°No. One of the kids from the docks.¡±


    My heart races. I ain¡¯t sure if this is great news or horrible news. If they¡¯re here for me, what¡¯s happened at the warehouse? Will this put them in more danger? What are the other Garnets doin, the ones that were with Michie, waiting for us to return from the docks? What have they done with Kamon¡¯s packages? How much time has passed? Who is Heish? How did they even find me?


    ¡°Tell him to come in,¡± Yaselle says.


    The door unlatches. My eyes widen when I see Asher approach, his arms held back by a red-faced Bug. The Bugs don¡¯t got tattoos or decorative features like other gangs, but they all have a flower tucked somewhere on their person. The Bug wears his behind his ear.


    ¡°Hello,¡± Asher says.


    ¡°How did you find me?¡±


    ¡°I was raised to track worse people than you.¡±


    His voice is different. It¡¯s lower, deeper. It makes him sound older. The way he¡¯s hunchin a little too, and the limp. Those might be real, though. Other than that, he seems to have come out of the docks alright. But, even without the limp, his gait¡¯s changed. It¡¯s a subtle difference that makes him feel like an entirely different person than the one I met only a few Moons ago.


    ¡°Worse people than me?¡± I repeat.


    ¡°No,¡± he says.


    ¡°I wasn¡¯t going to hurt Asaio,¡± Asaio says.


    Asher¡¯s eyes flicker over the chains. ¡°I can see that.¡± I don¡¯t know if he¡¯s bein sarcastic or not. He shrugs his shoulders and the Bug tightens his grip. ¡°Can you tell him to let go of me? I¡¯m not going to hurt you either.¡±


    ¡°Let go of the boy.¡± Yaselle eyes him as the door to the rest of the tunnel shugs with a thud. ¡°Are there any more of you?¡±


    ¡°No. Just me.¡±


    ¡°And what is your name?¡±


    ¡°I don¡¯t have one,¡± Asher answers.


    ¡°No ages, no names. I would offer you a seat, but this tunnel lacks those. Let me guess. You want Asaio in exchange for Heish.¡±


    Who is Heish?


    ¡°Yes,¡± Asher says. He glances at me. ¡°You need your hostage to secure your deal with the Rubies on the docks.¡±


    ¡°You are an impressive young man, just for locating us,¡± Yaselle muses. ¡°How is it that you managed that? That you¡¯ve managed to take Heish from me? Or are you bluffing? You have a very blank face, young sir.¡±


    Asher says nothin.


    ¡°Well,¡± she hums. ¡°I¡¯m happy to tell you that I don¡¯t think you need Heish as a bargaining chip. Your friend and I have come to a deal, haven''t we, Asaio?¡±


    ¡°Well, wait¡ª¡± I start while Asher goes, ¡°What?¡±


    ¡°He works for me, as a Bug, and I provide your friends protection, a home. But your lot won¡¯t owe me anything, like he will.¡± She winks. ¡°I am sending out Bugs already. I am sure you¡¯ve realized the other gangs will soon be hot on your trial.¡±


    ¡°I ain¡¯t agreed to anythin,¡± I say.


    ¡°Yet, what other choice do you have?¡± she says. She turns to Asher. ¡°Are you not curious as to why I¡¯ve taken your friend?¡±


    ¡°No. It¡¯s obvious. His soul is illuminated.¡±


    Yaselle¡¯s eyes widen, and that disturbin smile comes over her. To my surprise, she lifts her veil. ¡°Illuminated. I have not heard that phrasing in cycles.¡±


    This entire conversation, I feel like I¡¯m missin somethin. Heish, illuminations, whatever. That don''t matter to me.


    ¡°Are the Garnets safe?¡± I ask him. He simply nods.


    ¡°What was your deal?¡± he asks me. It is Yaselle that recaps it, he has no reaction.


    ¡°Okay. Let me go tell the Garnets. We can meet on Punnet Street,¡± he says. ¡°Let them name their terms, tell you if they are willing to let Asaio go through with that.¡±


    ¡°I highly discourage we meet in a public place.¡±


    ¡°I do not think the Garnets want to venture here,¡± he says. From his tone, I figure the Garnets and he have already had this conversation. Were they anticipatin a deal like this? It would make sense.


    ¡°What of Heish? Say you are not bluffing¡ªwhat is it that you want in order to return him to me?¡±


    Asher shrugs. ¡°Heish will stay with us till you prove you do not mean to abuse Asaio.¡±


    ¡°I assure you, I will not.¡±


    ¡°Well. Think of him as an incentive, in case you think you can hide Asaio from the Garnets, too. Until the Garnets can safely speak to Asaio, we keep Heish.¡± Yaselle agrees to this.


    I don¡¯t understand what¡¯s goin on, but it feels like both Yaselle and Asher have somethin up their sleeve they ain¡¯t tellin the other about. They eye each other again, and I realize Asher¡¯s got that same ¡®doll¡¯ look to him.

 Ash and Stone XIVF - Nadya

    NADYA


    We venture through the streets. Each one is more horrific and dirt-ridden than the last. Kaki tries to describe Jeran to me, but I¡¯m hardly listening. I cannot explain to him why my tongue now feels made of stone, or why my heart still beats so fast despite the fact that we are legs and legs away from the protest, or why I keep glancing over my shoulder into the darkness of the streets.


    No, I can. I hate it here. And this is the Suns¡¯ way of telling me to go back.


    ¡°Nadya,¡± he says for the twenty-thousandth time. ¡°I¡¯m sorry. You look so ill. Let¡¯s go back.¡± I trudge on in response, my legs moving nearly against my will.


    I do not even understand how he is able to speak against the smells of this place, the rotting decay.


    Kaki¡¯s mind is exceptional. he told me he would master the art of everything, once. I whole-heartedly believed him then, and I believe him now.


    I see him mastering the art of knowledge that was never meant to be shared and understanding people that were never meant to be met. If I stay here, with him, if I really let him be predictable in this way, I wonder how long it will be before we¡¯re just another body. There is no one to protect us here, no fortified stone walls.


    And then what will my life have accomplished?


    Despite my disgust, I want to pull away. But I know I can¡¯t. I despise myself for being curious¨Cperhaps even more curious than Kaki.


    ***


    Jeran¡¯s place is about the size of two closets placed side-by-side. There is no door, just a long sheet that Kaki pushes out of the way. It does not smell like the rancidly deceased but smoke¨Clit with flaming red candles instead of glowshrooms. This building makes the deserted Tyn Wing look just recently remodeled.


    We enter without a word. It is hardly decorated. There is a stone slab in the corner covered with a blanket. Beside it, an assortment of miscellaneous things. Mostly pots and pans, hats, some interestingly carved stone statues about the size of my hand. Many are chipped. next to it, another vertical stone slab adorned with a set of chains and shackles.


    Jeran himself is short, only a bit taller than Kaki. He has long hair that is thinning out. His skin his clear, but his bare feet are twisted, blackened things that¡¯ve lost all their toes. He has no teeth. His eye bags are the worst I have ever seen, making his face look droopy. When the curtain opens, he leaps to his feet, eyes wide.


    ¡°Jeran!¡± Kaki greets, holding his arms out to hug the man. He visibly relaxes.


    ¡°Kaki!¡± Jeran says, embracing him. A part of me registers the unusualness of hearing someone use that name other than myself. ¡°And who is this pretty lady? Are you Nadya?¡±


    He has an accent. I don¡¯t know where from.


    ¡°Yes,¡± I manage, my voice quieter and meeker than I would like. It hurts just to speak. I feel as though my throat is tightened. ¡°How did you know?¡±


    ¡°Kaki speaks of you often,¡± Jeran says. He reaches out to touch me, and I flinch away. ¡°I¡¯m sorry! Sorry. I mean no harm to you, truly. You are gorgeous, sweetheart. Kaki, why did you not say so? Girls like to be called pretty?¡±


    ¡°Thank you,¡± I whisper.


    He leans in closer. ¡°Sweetheart, are you alright? You seem shaken.¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s her first time in the City,¡± Kaki says.


    Jeran¡¯s eyes widen. ¡°Oh, I see. I remember how shocking it was after I moved here from the Fortress. Oh, sweetheart, come sit. Come sit.¡±


    ¡°No, it¡¯s okay,¡± I say. ¡°It¡¯s nothing really.¡±


    ¡°There was a protest,¡± Kaki says. He runs a hand through his hair and I notice the way it shakes. Maybe he was more startled by watching a man be shot than he let on. ¡°At the Fyi Festival. The Boneheads were running it.¡±


    ¡°And you let her be there!¡± Jeran gasps. He forces me to sit down. ¡°What happened? I haven¡¯t heard of this protest. I thought the Boneheads were trying to keep a low profile these Moons.¡±


    Kaki explains it. Jeran looks at me again, and it is clearly with pity. I hate that. They are the sort of looks that many of the other servants would give when times were rougher on Kaki. They thought it such a social burden to be ¡®associated¡¯ with him. They still give me such looks, believing very similarly to Missus Yarna that he holds me back in my Soul¡¯s Purity.


    Jeran must see my distress worsen, for he looks away quickly. ¡°A tragic ordeal,¡± he murmurs.


    ¡°Who are the Boneheads?¡± I ask. I grip the edge of my skirt to hide the shaking. Sitting did help. It feels like my body is grounded.


    ¡°They call themselves a social movement,¡± Jeran says. ¡°They were part of a larger group of revolutionaries. They have good intentions, good ideas. But they go about change by playing with fire. It is best not to be involved with anything of the sort.¡±


    I stare at Kaki in accusation. Why would he let us stay there when he knew what would happen?


    ¡°I¡¯m sorry,¡± he says. He sits down beside me. ¡°I knew but I didn¡¯t know.¡±


    ¡°Kaki is still quite ignorant of the workings of the City,¡± Jeran says. ¡°We all are. Anyone who claims to know this City completely is a liar. It is a beautiful thing, to have so many conflicting views¨Ca complicated web, if you will. In this way, I think we are freer than many other Cities.¡±


    ¡°Until people get hurt,¡± I say.


    ¡°Yes.¡± He nod. He rubs his left arm. A long, red scar hugs his shoulder to forearm. ¡°Yes, until people get hurt. You Sergeants will be looking for you soon. As soon as you two have calmed down and recovered from such an eventful night. I am glad for the company, of course, but I would not want to risk you two getting in trouble, or being found by the lickers.¡±


    I study Jeran. ¡°You seem so nice.¡±


    He laughs. ¡°What did you expect of me? Has Kaki been telling ludicrous stories?¡±


    ¡°No, no,¡± I say. I glance around. I try to keep the words from tumbling out of my mouth, but they do anyways. ¡°How is it that you can live like this?¡±


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    He smiles. ¡°Ah, sweetheart. You¡¯ve not seen this City during the storms. Not the light rains, I don¡¯t mean those. But true storms. This? I feel quite safe for now.¡± I replay how on-guard he was when we first entered. Without doors, how is it that anyone has a sense of privacy? Why do these Industry homes not have doors?


    When I ask Jeran this, he says, ¡°We do not own these places. Ah, but do not have that face, sweetheart. We make them our own, in our own little ways. I am particularly good at that.¡± He winks.


    ¡°How do you mean?¡±


    Kaki leans toward me. ¡°Jeran is an architect. He had many design propositions for the City based on the designs of the Fortress, enhancements. You should show her, Jeran.¡±


    ¡°I can¡¯t read,¡± I say.


    ¡°Neither can I,¡± Jeran says. He gets up and walks to the vertical stone slab with the chains. He pulls at the edge and, with a horrid scrape! against the wood floor, the thing slowly rotates. It is a shelf, partially nailed into the wall, thickly carved of plague-ridden wood and painted with purple pigments. On its four shelves, dozens of skin scrolls and paper pages. I look away immediately.


    ¡°Do not worry,¡± Jeran says. ¡°I am a Yevanian man. I would not have learned to read even if I wanted to.¡±


    I recall that he is the one who gave Kaki the wordless books. Pages and scrolls are not even supposed to be in the possession of the lesser classes, the more fragmented Souls. I suppose he is still a good Yevanian man if he does not read any such letters, but he must understand that he plays with temptation with each scroll he touches.


    With this thought, I chide myself for being such a hypocrite.


    ¡°Ah! Here they are.¡± He pulls out two of the scrolls. ¡°My children.¡±


    ¡°What?¡±


    ¡°They¡¯re drawn on skins,¡± Kaki says. The realization dawns upon me and I feel slightly less sick. At least he has an excuse for keeping these scrolls in his possession.


    ¡°Here we go, here we go,¡± he says cheerily. He sets the scrolls down on the floor, expanding them. They are not the crude drawings I expect. They are extraordinary. Complex designs with clear, intricate thought behind each one, drawn with a very steady hand. I¡¯ve not seen any other such designs before, but these remind me of the murals the Enlighteneds and Lighteneds have on their chamber doors¨Cit is that level of artistry.


    ¡°Suns,¡± I say. ¡°This is beautiful.¡±


    ¡°Why thank you, gorgeous.¡±


    I look over at the stone slab he had turned for this. ¡°You built that?¡±


    ¡°Yes,¡± he says. ¡°So the lickers do not catch me.¡±


    ¡°Look, Nadya,¡± Kaki says, pointing to one section of the scroll. ¡°A complex system of pulleys so that our veterans who¡¯ve lost their limbs or are paralyzed or the plague-ridden who can¡¯t walk anymore can have an easier way into the apartments instead of climbing all those rusted ladders you saw outside. Isn¡¯t that brilliant?¡±


    I cannot wrap my mind about what this drawing actually means. ¡°What is a pulley?¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s how we used to get people out of the trenches during the war. See these wheels? The ropes around them¡ªI¡¯m not sure exactly how¡ªbut they manipulate how much¡­ uh, energy, you put into lifting something and make it easier. If that makes sense.¡±


    Jeran chuckles. ¡°That is not quite how it works.¡±


    Kaki and Jeran show me a few more designs¨Cmore efficient ways to transport water and a few renovated apartment ideas. Listening to them explain these designs keeps my mind off the horrors of the City, despite my lack of understanding. I understand why Kaki likes Jeran: he speaks of his designs with the same passion and grandeur which Kaki speaks of the conspiracies around Var-Nashi and his other wordless books.


    ¡°Are you part of the Industry of Scholars?¡± I ask. Those are the Researchers, the Innovators. There are many in the Fortress, but other Cities are more equipped with such Industry members. It is from the Industry within the City of Anulie that our steam-powered carriages were constructed. I do not know how Pure Jeran is, but one has to be of a certain Purity to join that Industry. I am not sure just how Pure that must be, but I figure that, if Jeran once lived in the Fortress, he must be Purer than he seems. Perhaps, despite the fact that he cannot read, it is alright for him to be handing Kaki illegal books and such.


    The Industries are the only places for specialized work. All others who do not have the mental capacity to do so¨Cbecause of Purity, like myself¨Care given jobs assigned by the Industries.


    However, to my horrors, Jeran laughs and shakes his head. ¡°Me! The Industry of Scholars! No, no, sweetheart. How I wish, but no.¡±


    ¡°Then¡­ what are these designs for?¡±


    ¡°Myself,¡± he says. ¡°A personal interest. I had a few friends that became a part of the Industry of Scholars, and so they taught me about architecture and other subjects. They would read to me passages about maths, so I can even do a few simple sums. Even if I were a part of the Industry, I am quite sure the Court would reject my designs.¡±


    Kaki wraps up one scroll and undoes the other. ¡°The Court is convoluted.¡±


    ¡°Why would they reject these?¡± I ask. ¡°They would benefit so many people.¡±


    ¡°It is very hard to actually have anybody work well in construction,¡± Jeran answers. ¡°We all end up fighting for the same dead bodies on the street for meat. Actually, the book I gave Kaki is from one of those Scholar friends. Her name is Lucy. She is quite a dear.¡±


    ¡°Did Lucy have more books?¡±


    ¡°Oh, plenty. She is quite the collector, actually, but do not let the bug lickers know.¡±


    ¡°Are they all wordless?¡±


    ¡°No, plenty have words.¡±


    I cannot keep the distress from my face, I¡¯m sure. ¡°That¡¯s wrong, is it not?¡±


    ¡°Perhaps,¡± Jeran says. ¡°Perhaps not. I suspect that, before long, these books will be in Kaki¡¯s possession. He has more use for them than Lucy and I ever will.¡±


    ¡°I finally finished that journal, by the way. All of it, back to back. And¨CI was telling Nadya about this¨Cbut I think it has secrets about the plague and its origins, but there is not enough textual evidence to actually derive any sort of conclusions.¡± He explains his idea of the ¡®prototype plague¡¯ and the voltaisa, but Jeran agrees that these are more assumption than fact. ¡°I did learn that the Shenai found us to be a lot more advanced than we are now¨Cthat is textually supported and sound. Var-Nashi described our City to be something of a miracle. I think, at some point, almost every building in Mecraentos City was fortified like the Fortress currently is. You know how you can see all those decimated rocks in the roads? Those might be the remnants.¡±


    Jeran frowns. ¡°I am not quite sure that is how our dear Nature buries human creation with the passage of time. You know how long the Fortress has stood against the test of time.¡±


    ¡°Oh,¡± Kaki says. His shoulders deflate a little. ¡°I see.¡±


    ¡°That is curious, however,¡± he says. ¡°Do you know when this journal was written?¡±


    Kaki shakes his head. ¡°I don¡¯t know. It could be a hundred cycles ago, it could be a thousand.¡±


    ¡°I recommend you take a visit to Lucy.¡±


    ¡°I thought you said¨C¡±


    ¡°Yes, I know. She may not want your company, but she enjoys the presence of other intellectual minds.¡±


    I do not know the context of this previous conversation, but I stiffen at the thought of meeting this Lucy, despite knowing how hypocritical it is. I scoff at this woman because she reads, and yet I coerced myself into attending a Festival by an illegally written invitation. But I do not hand out these invitations to other Souls, no. I do not give them to suseptible minds, like Kaki¡¯s. If I were to ignore the rules of the Suns and teach myself the art of letters, I would do so in a solitary fashion. At least, then, I would be praying for my own downfall and taking no others with me.


    Perhaps there was some part of me that wanted to speak to Jeran to know if his life were miserable, if he was being punished for taking part in blasphemy.


    A part of me hates his easy smile, and I repeat the question to myself that I asked him earlier: how can he live like this?


    And how can it feel so much as though I am not living in the Fortress, when I likely would die living here?


    I want to scream at these thoughts which plague me. I wish to be a simple-minded creature, a simple-minded girl. For these are not important thoughts. They do not benefit my work, they do not benefit myself. They are not questions to the Suns nor Prayers of any sort.


    I grab one of the scrolls on the floor and unravel it. This one is not an architectural design, but instead a statue. It is much more like a portrait than anything else. A beautiful carving of a man and women held in an interlocked embrace, with clear care for each other. But the man holds a knife to the woman¡¯s head, and she holds a gun to his chest. They are old, hunched and wrinkled. Beside the woman, a patch of flowers are wilted. Beside the man, fires blaze.


    Is this another sign? I wonder.


    ¡°I would like to learn to create designs like this,¡± Kaki says. ¡°After I learn the histories of them.¡±


    Jeran laughs. ¡°Ah. Have you not considered joining the Industry of Scholars, Kaki?¡±


    He shakes his head. ¡°No, the Industries are even worse than the Court.¡±


    I purse my lips. He always says this, and such claims seem so baseless.


    Until a cold wind blows through, and Jeran¡¯s make-shift door flies open. He shivers audible, clutching at his thin, veiny skin, his stubbed foot quivering.


    ***

 Ash and Stone XIVS - Nadya

    NADYA


    Jeran boils a warm broth for Kaki and I. It is a thin, tasteless meal that even challenges the servant¡¯s rations¡ªwe often have the last bowl in the Fortress. He speaks more of his architectural designs to Kaki and of the wordless books. To my dismay, he and Kaki discuss other titles which were not wordless, titles that Kaki has picked up in the Youth Library or the Library of Kirill. While Kaki explains the different ways in which the City was described to be covered in stone, Jeran sketches. Kaki nods, agreeing that this vision of the City was how he imagined it to once be, according to Var-Nashi. He and Kaki speak of the maths which would have had to been utilized for buildings such as those.


    When he mentions the Cat¡¯talris, Jeran again says that he should visit Lucy. ¡°She worked in religious and plague-related studies when she was a Scholar,¡± he says.


    ¡°A Scholar?¡± I say. Shame comes upon me. I¡¯d automatically assumed that this Lucy was like Jeran and myself; not Pure enough to read.


    ¡°Well,¡± he says. ¡°Not officially.¡±


    I am not excluded from the conversation, but I do not quite let myself listen in. In the back of my mind, I see those children. Over and over and over.


    ¡°We should go,¡± Kaki says. ¡°The Sergeants will be looking for us.¡±


    ¡°Yes, yes,¡± Jeran says. A shuffling behind me. ¡°Dear Nadya, do you like to sew? I know many servants of the Fortress do.¡±


    I nod and turn to see him rummaging through his shelf. ¡°It¡¯s my hobby.¡±


    ¡°Your hobby,¡± he says with a laugh. ¡°As though you can have only one. Ah. Here it is.¡±


    He hands me a packet of papers, made of real bark and not skin. ¡°They are from Lucy as well,¡± he says. ¡°I was saving them for my daughters, but¡­ well, that is a story for another time.¡±


    I flip the first page and gasp. They are patterns for various dresses. Elegant sorts, gorgeous sorts, of many different old styles. There are long kiminis, with their ruffled ends and puffed sleeves. Slim, womanly janas, which are a Mecraenton staple for many noble women but are hard to find pattern for, armas that have been customized to be more fashionable.


    But my heart sores when I see the printed words on the side of each page. I drop the packet. The pages, which were held together with a wooden clip, fall apart in a pile onto the ground and I take an awkward step away. A gust of wind blows, worsening the mess.


    ¡°Sorry!¡± I cry. ¡°Sorry.¡±


    Jeran laughs and kneels to pick of the pages, but visibly winces at the effort, so I do so. I hand him back the pages. ¡°I¡¯m sorry, but I can¡¯t have these. They are really beautiful, but¡­ I can¡¯t.¡±


    Even without the words written for all eyes aside from mine to see, I would not have been able to make these dresses for myself. I keep only two frocks on me for a reason, when I could have had three. My Ospry Moon tempts me, and I am a gullible, guilty Soul.


    He knows immediately what I mean. ¡°I see.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯ll take them,¡± Kaki says.


    ¡°Kaki¡ª¡± I try.


    ¡°Perhaps I like wearing dresses,¡± he says. ¡°Perhaps I like to sew and you don¡¯t know it.¡±


    ¡°I know you don¡¯t.¡±


    He takes the collected papers from Jeran¡¯s hands anyway.


    ***


    Jeran offered to walk us through the City to find the Sergeants, but Kaki didn¡¯t want him to get in trouble. He did not want it to seem as though Jeran had coerced us into his apartment or anything of the sort. I thank Jeran heartedly and even manage to shake his paper-thin hands. He gives me an old scarf to cover my mouth from the smells of the City and pins to clip it against the back of my cloak.


    Kaki flips through the designs from Lucy. I try to get him to stop, as I am paranoid. The sound of metal clinking and distant laughter and a slowly rolling fog make me shiver. I need Kaki, who knows this City better than I, to be aware and on guard, instead of having his face in a book.


    ¡°...and triple-back stitch is recommended for the hood of this arma,¡± he reads, ¡°for it allows for more security and¡ª¡±


    ¡°Stop it,¡± I interrupt.


    He eyes me warily. ¡°Okay. I¡¯m sorry.¡±


    ¡°Stop apologizing. You¡¯ve nothing to be sorry for. I mean that. I¡¯m sorry too.¡±


    ¡°As to you, Nadya.¡± We walk around a street corner and immediately dodge away. A group of thin, hunched men stand there bellowing and banging pans against a doorframe. I hear the screaming of a woman. We try a different turn, only to find it lined with chained bodies.


    How could the Suns let this happen?


    My faith is a beautiful thing. I would never give it up, as much as I dare to question it. My faith is the reason why I get out of bed each morning¡ªit gives me something to live for. A goal. A Pure purpose. But I wonder how much it causes me to stop questioning. No, that is not right. It is not that I do not question. It is that I do not pursue such things.


    ¡°How is it that you are able to read the wordless books?¡± I ask Kaki. ¡°They are blank pages. I don¡¯t¡­ I don¡¯t get it. Maybe I do not understand how reading works, but I thought you have to be able to see the words on the page. Or is that not true?¡±


    Kaki raises a brow but does not express any surprise in my asking. I¡¯m glad for it. ¡°Well¡­ the truth is, I don¡¯t know. I don¡¯t read them in our language.¡±


    ¡°You know another language?¡±


    ¡°That¡¯s the thing. I don¡¯t. I don¡¯t know how best to describe this. But I don¡¯t see the words either. I hear the, up here.¡± He points to his head. ¡°I mean, you always hear words in your head as you read, but not as I do, I don¡¯t think. It feels¡­ almost like a voice. Speaking to me.¡±


    ¡°That¡¯s¡ª¡±


    ¡°Yeah?¡±


    ¡°No, go on.¡±


    ¡°Whenever I look at those books, I hear It. In a tongue I believe is as ancient as the texts themselves. I mean, I¡¯ve only been calling them texts because they are bound in page form, but I suppose, by definition, they are anything but.¡±


    ¡°So¡­ it¡¯s like a vision,¡± I say. ¡°Sent to you as¡ª¡±


    ¡°No, no. Here, wait. Get out of the way. That coach is about to barrel through us.¡± We scramble onto the side of the street, pressed up against a wooden wall. Above it, a drawing of a bag to indicate that it is a Shop for General Items. It it closed, the lights out. ¡°It¡¯s not a vision, or an auditory vision, or anything like that, Nadya. I don¡¯t know how to describe it.¡±


    ¡°But Jeran can¡¯t hear it? Or this Lucy?¡±


    ¡°No, I don¡¯t think so. When he gave me the book, he could not.¡± He sighs. ¡°It gets you wondering, right? I told you about the lost religion, the Shenai¡¯s Cat¡¯talris. Well, a lost religion, a lost City of Gold, and a lost form of writing? Or communication, or whatever this is? It doesn¡¯t make sense does it?¡± He looks out, running a hand through his long black hair. When he turns back, it is with a grin. ¡°One Moon, it will make sense to me. You know, Nadya, I actually had a very similar reaction to the wordless books that you did to these scrolls.¡±


    If you discover this tale on Amazon, be aware that it has been unlawfully taken from Royal Road. Please report it.


    ¡°Really?¡±


    ¡°Yes,¡± he says. ¡°I know that what I hear isn¡¯t normal. I suppose that ¡®not being normal¡¯ should be my normal at this point¡­ it took me eight Moons to come back to the City, to ask for the diary from Jeran again. We¡¯d been exchanging books and information for some time, then: between me, him, and Lucy. But it didn¡¯t really amount to anything. Until Var-Nashi¡¯s diary. It scared me, a little, Nadya, to hear that Voice. And I had no one else to speak to about it. To be gifted an ancient tongue should be a horrific thing, should it not?¡±


    ¡°It makes you uncomfortable,¡± I realize.


    ¡°Yes,¡± he says. ¡°A bit. Perhaps in another life, I¡¯d have been a good noble boy. Maybe I would actually care for the Trials. Maybe I would have been the  youngest Court member to be admitted. That would have been nice, wouldn¡¯t it? But I can¡¯t see myself doing that. I¡¯ve agonized over it countless times. I know it is all a matter of will: of course, I could force myself to study for the Trials and be a part of the Court. I could learn to understand our politics in a way that would be seen as productive. But¡ªperhaps it is a bit selfish of me to think this. There is a small, spiteful part of my brain that does not want to ever work with these people. I try not to think of the past, but the thought of working with the other Pure kids makes me sick. You understand?¡±


    Up until just now, I have never heard Kaki ever bring up the proposition of ¡®another life.¡¯


    I suppose I¡¯d always thought it was only ever I who daydreamed of something more, of an alternate reality where I¡¯d have been a better version of myself. Perhaps Kaki has understood me better than I¡¯ve understood myself this whole time.


    ¡°And yet I pursue wordless books and ancient histories, because they interest me.¡± He cocks his head. ¡°Maybe it¡¯s silly¡ª¡±


    ¡°No, I get it,¡± I say. ¡°I completely get it.¡±


    ¡°I know.¡± He twiddles with the edge of his cloak. ¡°Whenever someone like the Lightened Ranna and the Father come around, I think of the fact that I could be a savior, if I really wanted to. The other nobles have not realized this yet, but they should soon: I would be an asset to the Court just as much as I would be a hindrance. If I were to play my cards right, they could use my lack of Enlightenment as a way to exploit the cultish groups which have already formed around my existence. No one does this. I keep a low enough profile to avoid such things, but I imagine that, when I¡¯m older, people will realize. Perhaps this is also silly, but I want to pursue these histories as long as I am able, before my lineage as Enlightened Everleigh¡¯s blood and my Purity catch up to me, whether I am a part of the Court or not, I will have a hand in its functionings. I already know that. That is why I¡¯m sorry for bringing you here. It¡¯s a selfish whim of mine and I can tell it¡¯s traumatized you and¡ª¡±


    ¡°Don¡¯t call yourself selfish. Don¡¯t you dare. Or if you are, so am I.¡±


    ¡°No,¡± he says earnestly. ¡°Nadya, you are anything but. Don¡¯t try to protest. Let me have this.¡±


    I am silent for a long time. Truly, I do not know what to say.


    I consider Kaki to be my best friend. Surely, I am his. And yet I lack the words to convey just how much it means that he has opened up in this way. For this is a side of him I have not seen.


    We stand in a foreign City, surrounded by dead bodies and gutters of blood, the Moons glowering above us. I still flinch when I hear a metal hit metal from the apartment above me, mistaking it for the same shot I heard at the Fyi Festival. This is where we are, and yet this is the closest I have felt to Kaki in a long time.


    ¡°I understand,¡± I say. ¡°Thank you for telling me.¡±


    I have always believed one does not need physical touch to show or understand love. It is not simply the temptation of the indulgence of excess touch, it is a personal belief. But, for the first time in my life, I understand why one would yearn for a hug instead. Sometimes words are not enough to express your gratitude.


    So, very tentatively, I reach out a hand and squeeze Kaki¡¯s forearm.


    He does not hide the shock from his expression. I pull away quickly, glaring at the ground. He says nothing further.


    Soon after, the Sergeants find us. They berate us, they yell at us for running away. Kaki explains that we were scared and confused, and my shock is still visible enough on my face for them to believe it. We are ushered back into the coach that follows them.


    ***


    Missus Yarna, to my surprise, waits at the gates of the Fortress. Word of the protest has gotten back to our capital, leaving she and many of the other servants worried about my safety. She rushes towards me as I leap out of the carriage, Kaki in tow. The other servants bombard me with questions while Missus Yarna demands that I be brought back to the Ospry Temple at once for Prayer and then to be washed-up.


    And so, once more, I watch the City from the Fortress, safe within four walls and with a roof over my head, as I have always done.


    I sit at the Temples and thank the Suns for my safety, for the love they show me.


    I find myself crying on the balcony. When Missus Yarna notices this, she says, quite alarmed, ¡°Nadya? Where are you hurt?¡±


    ¡°Nowhere,¡± I say. I do not know why I am crying: I was a mere witness to violence, not its victim or perpetrator. Perhaps I cry because I am grateful.


    The next Moon, Enlightened Everleigh calls upon Kaki and I. We enter her large chamber and find her sat on the ground, like a child, completely naked. Her long white hair covers her chest while her knees are up to her chin. I glance away with a gasp while Kaki tries to keep himself from gagging.


    ¡°Oh, Suns, I did not need to see this right now. Auntie,¡± Kaki says, ¡°what are you doing?¡±


    ¡°Bakiyoria,¡± she says. ¡°They tell me you almost died in the City. Is this true?¡±


    Kaki shakes his head. ¡°No. No, that is an exaggeration¡ª¡±


    ¡°If you were to die in the City, hardly anyone would care, I think,¡± she muses. ¡°Or perhaps the people would care too much. I don¡¯t know. I don¡¯t remember. Bakiyoria, they tell me that you associate yourself with the Boneheads. Is that true? The Sergeants¡­ Mitia¡­ is this true?¡±


    ¡°I¡ªno, Enlightened, it¡¯s not¡ª¡±


    ¡°But you sneak around so often,¡± she murmurs. ¡°So, so often. I know, they know. They all know. They whisper to me that they know.¡±


    ¡°Who is ¡®they?¡¯¡± Kaki demands. ¡°Suns, nevermind. I won¡¯t get a straight answer out of you, will I? You knew we were going to the Fyi Festival. I suppose you should discuss with the Court what we saw. The Boneheads may become a problem if the public panics and thinks that we do not have the ability to protect the children of our City, like they so graciously showed in the¡ª¡±


    Enlightened Everleigh interrupts with, ¡°The people say you need someone to reel you in. You cause havoc, everywhere you go. Even if you are not physically there, you cause havoc, Bakiyoria. They say it was you who enticed the Boneheads because you have the power of prophecy. That is what they will say. Why do you do this? Why can you not remember to stay quiet?¡±


    ¡°I do remain quiet,¡± Kaki says.


    ¡°I know. I know.¡± Enlightened Everleigh rubs her forehead. ¡°I was fourteen when I was married off, Bakiyoria. The Court says you need a wife. Or a husband. Prince or princess of the Cratic, I do not mind. Take your pick. They are twins, not much older than you.¡±


    ¡°Wait, what? Hold on, what are you saying¡ª¡±


    ¡°The Sen Fair comes soon. That is the excuse I gave. You will be Purer during the Sen Fair. You will make friends and prove your usefulness at the Sen Fair, to the Court. Yes, you see? Everyone knows your lack of effort towards the Trials, but you will prove you love this Fortress at the Sen Fair, you see? You see, Bakiyoria? Please tell me you see.¡± Her voice cracks. ¡°I forgot to tell you something and now I don¡¯t remember.¡±


    ¡°Are you trying to marry me off?¡± he says. ¡°To the Cratic?¡±


    ¡°No,¡± she says. ¡°Not soon. Not now. But if you do not become a member of the Court, you must be useful in other ways. That¡¯s what they are saying. That is what they mean.¡±


    ¡°Who is ¡®they?¡¯¡± Kaki demands.


    Enlightened Everleigh shrugs. She waves a hand and the light from the room filters in to center around Kaki. It lights up the burn marks on his face and arms. She creates a circle of pale white light that traps him, leaving everything else in darkness. I cannot keep my jaw from dropping. From this perspective, Kaki seems an ethereal being.


    But then, with another wave of a hand, Enlightened Everleigh manipulates the light to cast a deep set of shadows onto Kaki. It fractures his face and his skin, so that it ages him. His dark hair does him an injustice. He seems absolutely Soulless, devoid of life. She draws the light to create a web-pattern of shadows, only further trapping him.


    I realize that this is the most concern she has ever conveyed for her nephew her entire life, and done so without a single word spoken.


    ¡°Your life is not yours, Bakiyoria,¡± she says. ¡°Just as my life was never mine. Be smart. You are no child. You are caught in a web of politics.¡±


    ¡°I know that,¡± he says. He shows his burnt arm. ¡°Suns, I know that, Auntie. I¡¯m trying.¡±


    ¡°You lie. Neither of us are.¡±


    And then the light goes out completely. Enlightened Everleigh casts us aside with an incoherent: ¡°My girl, my girl, my girl. Go away. Stay safe, my girl. My girl, my girl, my girl¡­.¡±


    The Sunlight never returns. We must find our way back to the door in darkness.


    ***


    Kaki said nothing when we left her chambers. I asked if he was alright, and he just nodded and said that we should both go to sleep.


    The next Moon, I hear rumors that he went to one of the Temples and Prayed. As Kaki is not one to ever visit a Temple unless forced to, this causes a lot of commotion around the Fortress. Many agree that he had something to do with the protest at the Fyi Festival, which most do not view as a Fortress but an act of terrorism against the children of the City¡ªthe timing is too suspicious. The boy who is both rumored to be a savior by some in other Cities and the bringing of our end in others is right there when almost thirty-five children are killed? This is clearly the Suns warning us to keep Bakiyoria away from Enlightenment, some say. No, it means that we need a new Enlightened to keep terrorists like the Boneheads away as our current ones do nothing, and Bakiyoria is the closest to Enlightenment out of anyone here, others say.


    But I choose not to believe that he even went to the Temples. Rumors only harm him.

 Ash and Stone XV - Asaio

    ASAIO


    I don''t know how much time passes while I¡¯m alone.


    I think to leave me in a room full of nothin and nobody is the worst sort of torture someone could inflict on me.


    I don¡¯t remember a time when I was alone. I lived in an orphanage for a bit, then I met Isaela and Sans¡ªthey are my earliest memories. Then I joined a gang of boys that wanted to be smart but weren¡¯t. Got themselves all locked up in the Slaughter Houses and were served to me on a silver platter as punishment. The Bloodmixers and Butchers thought to let me go since I was the youngest, probably round four or five, and hoped I¡¯d remember that Moon forever. That Moon was the closest I ever was to bein alone, and I still had Sans to run back back and cry to.


    I think back to a Moon with Seran.


    I worshiped him. Still do. He was a few cycles older than me when he died, closer to bein an adult than anythin. He had a great sense of humor and was why everyone loved our old gamblin hub. He drew in girls like flies and drew in men cause they liked his energy and he¡¯d always offer up free drinks that Ze and I stole from the Market Street. He¡¯d be the Charmer while us kids rigged the desks and cards, stole from misplaced bags of drunken mistresses and misters. He coached us into actin and said that the best con man is an actor, not a thief. He had a bunch of lovers. I don¡¯t think he loved a single one, not the way Vernon loves Lahla, but he damn sure loved us.


    That day, I was seven or somethin. Probably seven, and it was the year Seran was goin to die. I remember it was just me and him in the backroom of the hub¡ªa sort of VIP area we¡¯d constructed for the extra-wealthy, where Seran would get his most formidable con ideas. There were velvet cushion seats that we covered with grimy,  quilted sheets whenever them lickers came.


    Seran began findin refuge in this room as his plague symptoms got worse. Like Vernon, his plague came over his arms first. I knew it scared him, to lost control of his dexterous fingers. Here, he often found time to Pray.


    Us Garnets never visited the Temples directly. The roads there were too dangerous and we were too scrappy lookin to be smiled upon by the Fathers, less it were the Tyn Temples, and those are hardly cared for. He normally did this alone, but that Moon he asked me to Pray with him.


    I was never one for Prayer, but Seran was devout, despite bein the headringer of our connin. I often wonder how he and Shis would get along if he were alive to meet her. He trapped a rhythm that was been real common with the City buskers recently. He asked the Moon Tyn for good profits and the passin by of wealthy tourists with pockets that need ¡°alleviatin of weight.¡± I snickered at that and he glared at me, so I shut right back up.


    Thing was, Seran was also a ragin drunk, so his Prayers got a little silly.


    ¡°...and keep sendin the girls and boys with the good figures to me, if you know what I mean, Moon Tyn,¡± he laughed. ¡°And keep little Piebald safe. Keep all my family safe, but especially him. You know, you¡¯ve been real kind about keepin the plague off him all the time I¡¯ve known him, but keep him safe from that too, you know. I hear about the Fortress Boy and I don¡¯t want Piebald to end up like him, you know, Tyn? Yeah. You know.¡±


    I frowned. ¡°The Fortress Boy?¡±


    He nodded vaguely. ¡°He don¡¯t got the plague either and is, like, a public experiment now. That ain¡¯t gonna be you, Piebald. Not under my watch. Or Tyn¡¯s. I¡¯ll kill you myself before that happens. The world ain¡¯t gonna tear you apart, limb for limb.¡± He eyed me. ¡°You know I would. Same with Sherald. And Ana. And Vip and Ze.¡±


    Then he grabbed me by the head and kissed the top of it. He pulled me into a long embrace. I could feel his back shudder, but I¡¯ll never be sure if he was cryin or not. Or if he did cry, if it was because of somethin I did or cause he knew he would be gone soon. All I knew was that death would be more preferable than a life without him, just as he had implied.


    Except I lived on. And I wonder, in this lonely cell, how long I would last livin on. If what Yaselle said is true, and I¡¯m Enlightened, I¡¯ll outlive all the Garnets.


    If what Yaselle said is true, and I¡¯m Enlightened, then I¡¯m suddenly like the Fortress Boy. Suddenly, I¡¯m somethin different from the rest of everyone else. Suddenly I ain¡¯t just a survivor on the streets, like all the others. Suddenly, I am a title.


    That thought terrifies me.


    I realize I¡¯m rubbin my arms against my chains, cuttin through my own skin. The shadows on the walls start to freak me out. They¡¯re crawlin real high, creepin in a little too close. I close my eyes and try to will myself asleep. But that¡¯s the thing. I¡¯ve never been able to sleep without a Garnet curled up right next to me.


    ***


    ¡°Asaio!¡± Yaselle greets, the sound of the locks on the door wakin me up from the half-sleep, half-lucid state I was in. Somethin bout her¡¯s changed. She walks in grinnin and, in a very expressive manner, her face falters at the sight of me. ¡°Oh! Were you asleep? I am so sorry to wake you, but there seems to be a problem.¡±


    ¡°Yeah?¡±


    She glances at my arms. They bleed. The cuts are probably deeper than the feel, rusted metal seepin into my skin, taintin my red blood. Not black like everyone else¡¯s, but red. I remember a story Lahla told me. How, where she came from, to keep the youngest kids from bein haunted they would feed them rotten food, plague-ridden meats, to contaminate the red Pure blood in their body, darkenin it so it¡¯s less appealin.


    ¡°I¡¯m sorry. I should have undone the chains, shouldn¡¯t I?¡±


    ¡°I dunno.¡± My head is poundin from exhaustion.


    ¡°Your friends never arrived on Punnet Street to answer our terms,¡± Yaselle muses. She has a girlish walk, almost a skip in her step and a nauseatin smile. ¡°Your red-headed friend said that he would let them know they could negotiate anything they wanted in exchange simply for you. And they never showed, Asaio. And so this was only natural, I suppose. That they do not trust me. That is alright. But then, when my Bugs arrived, there seemed to have been an issue.¡± She leans in very close to me. ¡°You know what it is, don¡¯t you?¡±


    I shake my head.


    The way her heels clack against the stone ground, echoin as she moves farther away from the single green shroomlamp and into a shroud of darkness sends a shiver up my spine.


    ¡°What was the issue?¡± I demand. ¡°What did you do?¡±


    ¡°Nothing,¡± she says. ¡°Your friends seem to have disappeared. But I believe that this little¡­ stunt will backfire on them. Here is something you must understand, sweet Asaio, and something your friends must as well: you are never as smart as you believe yourself to be.¡±


    ¡°What do you mean disappeared? Yaselle, wait¡ª¡± But she¡¯s already walked out the door. It slams behind her.


    Panic courses through me. I pull against the chains. I ignore the pain as the metal cuts through my highly exposed flesh. Against my bare chest. On my shoulders. My wrists. My stomach growls.


    The scent of my own blood leaves me nauseated. I¡¯m so hungry.


    The real animals died of the plague cycles ago, and it¡¯s hard to grow much crop cause of the plague-ridden soil, less you¡¯re a miracle worker like Michie. That¡¯s why bread and soup shop lines are so long. In cases that are real bad, when the Slaughter Houses aren¡¯t takin in any new bodies or when the Shops have shortages that get real bad, some people resort to autocannibalism. It¡¯s also a stress-symptom. The smell of my own blood reminds me only of my own lack of power, despite the title of Enlightened. I am an Enlightened, confined by the same chains that keep away the weak, feeble plague-ridden, and my friends are out there doin Suns knows what¡ªall because I got caught.


    ***


    I wake with a jolt, my heart beatin and my hands shakin. I shut my eyes and count to ten, over and over. It¡¯s an easy way to calm myself after a bad dream; that and not thinkin of it afterwards. The darkness all around me don¡¯t help at all.


    Suddenly, the front door opens. It slams against the wall, the sound reverberatin through my bones as I wince.


    ¡°Lady, what¡ª¡±


    But it ain¡¯t Yaselle.


    Rushin into the room are Seht and Ana, their faces burst out of the darkness like the old stories of phantoms Ze and Sherald and Shimmy would tell, the green light of the lamps they carry make them seem real hollow. Seht¡¯s sharp, smart mouth is set in a determined line. It don¡¯t look like either have changed clothes since the docks. Ana¡¯s eyes is busted and covered with a cloth wrapped around her head. Relief courses through me.


    ¡°Oh Suns, you¡¯re okay,¡± I gasp. ¡°What are you doi¡ª¡±


    ¡°We¡¯re up and getting you out of here, idiot,¡± Seht says. He runs back round my chair and works at my chains. ¡°I don¡¯t know how to do this.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯ll get him out,¡± Ana says. ¡°You¡¯re bleedin so damn much, Asaio.¡±


    ¡°It smells rancid,¡± Seht says.


    Suddenly, the walls shark as the sound of a gun blast, then a scream, come from just beyond the tunnel hall. My eyes widen and I subconsciously pull at my bounds, makin Ana curse at me. ¡°What was that?¡±


    ¡°Flynn and Vernon and whatever Bugs were outside that door,¡± Seht answers. He drops to his feet, despite not knowin how to undo the locks, and tries to work at em. ¡°We have to make this quick.¡±


    ¡°Do y¡¯all have guns?¡±


    ¡°No. The Bugs do.¡±


    That¡¯s an accomplishment, since most of the world ain¡¯t transitioned to usin those weapons yet. No one but the lickers.


    The sound of hurried footsteps, then Flynn and Vernon stumble inside. Vernon grips the edge of the doorgrame to steady himself. He looks exhausted, not even bandaged up, while Flynn holds the right side of his arm. It bleeds, his hair sweaty and greasy on his face. Nep and Pen slither in after. What were they doin in the hours between the docks and now? Did no one go to Sans or Isaela for medical care?


    ¡°What about¡ªdidn¡¯t Asher tell you about the deal?¡± I ask as Ana undoes the chain around my chest.


    ¡°Yeah, I don¡¯t trust any of that,¡± Vernon snaps. ¡°You in exchange for¡­ what? Everything we could ever ask for?¡±


    ¡°Too good to be true,¡± Ana murmurs.


    ¡°We¡¯re better off on our own. Come on. We already have a place to hide out, thanks to that newbie, Asher. Good find, him, by the way.¡±


    ¡°You¡¯re bleeding so much,¡± Flynn gasps as he picks up Pen. ¡°What did she¡ª¡±


    ¡°She didn¡¯t do nothin,¡± I say. ¡°No, really. I don¡¯t think that what she offered was a bad idea. She was right, you know. If she¡¯s right. If¡ªdid Asher tell you what she said? If I¡¯m Enlightened then other gangs are¡ª¡±


    ¡°Bullshit,¡± Vernon says with venom.


    It¡¯s rare he ever raises his voice like that. I glance at Ana helplessly and shut up.


    She helps me out of the chair, brushin my hair back in an almost motherly fashion. ¡°I don¡¯t trust it either. I¡¯d rather not lose you, Asaio.¡±


    She takes off her cloak and wraps it round me, securin it fast with a pointy metal pin.


    ¡°Fuck, we¡¯re out of time,¡± Vernon says.


    Steppin into the room is Yaselle,  lookin none-worse-for-wear.


    Ana grabs me and shoves me behind her, while Seht and Flynn take point. I know for a fact that Vernon must be too tired to extend his limbs. Just standin there in front of me, he¡¯s shakin voraciously. Seht¡¯s a tank; enhanced strength and speed, but Yaselle¡¯s trained, not just street-smart. And Flynn relies too much on Nep and Pen¡ªhe ain¡¯t got many prospects without em. And, from the looks of it, the twin snakes are tuckered out. Nep tries to slither and wrap herself round Yaselle¡¯s feet, but she shucks the giant snake off with her parasol. Flynn winces as though he himself were hit.


    ¡°Wonderful,¡± Yaselle says. Her voice seems softer, less animated. ¡°You all have too much energy. You tire me, but I understand why the Enlightened surrounds himself with your company. You are tough. And smart. Leading my Bugs straight to the lickers like that, that was smart.¡±


    She sighs. ¡°But not smart enough. The cop-out? Everyone¡¯s done it. Please don¡¯t look at me like that. I am not a brute. I am not the Lime Men or the Rubies. Come with me, and we can discuss the deal that I am sure your red-headed friend failed to mention.¡±


    ¡°Nah, he mentioned it,¡± Vernon says. ¡°But we won¡¯t give up Asaio. Not for anything.¡±


    ¡°I think that is very valiant. But foolish.¡±


    ¡°Probably,¡± Vernon agrees. ¡°But Asaio¡¯s worth a lot more than a new home.¡±


    ¡°I believe this was my mistake, bringing him here, making him look like a prisoner¡ª¡±


    ¡°He is a prisoner.¡±


    ¡°He is,¡± she agrees softly. ¡°And I have much empathy for him. For his being a very, very powerful entity will release him from the prison of the mind that the rest of us are born within, and yet his being may cause him to be trapped in an even worse penitentiary.¡±


    This narrative has been purloined without the author''s approval. Report any appearances on Amazon.


    ¡°He¡¯s dumb as a rock,¡± Seht says. ¡°Trust me, you don¡¯t want him. Enlightened or not, no one wants him. He¡¯s an absolute imbecile. He¡¯ll up and willingly leap off a roof because you tell him the soil is soft beneath it.¡±


    ¡°Shut up,¡± Flynn murmurs.


    One of her Bugs whispers somethin into Yaselle¡¯s ear, but she waves him away. ¡°Go. I want to talk to the kids alone.¡±


    When he is gone, she continues, but not without pointedly glancin at the door, which remains open for us all to see, to walk through if we choose. ¡°I¡¯ll build you all a safe home, away from the inevitable chaos which will spring when the world finds out about your Asaio. Money, I can lend that. Name what you want, and I can get it. All I ask is for his time. I will not treat him wrongly. He will not even stay with me, he¡ª¡±


    ¡°We want Asaio.¡± Vernon grabs me by the arm and hugs me, as though he¡¯s afraid that by lettin go of me I¡¯ll suddenly fall into Yaselle¡¯s grasp. I ignore the pain as he squeezes the cuts on my wrist, blood seepin. ¡°See, it don¡¯t make much sense because there¡¯s so little in this deal for you, and we¡¯re all selfish asses.¡±


    ¡°No,¡± Yaselle murmurs. ¡°I simply recognize what you do: that Asaio is worth so much more than anything else I have to offer. I will be frank. I win if he is part of mine. I¡¯ve been incredibly honest about that. I¡¯ve been incredibly honest about everything, actually, and that is a core value of mine. I promise to never lie. What else do you kids want? I know you struck a deal with the Mister Kamon. What is he offering you that¡¯s so great you¡¯ll intercept a Damaskragan merchant? I¡¯ll match it. I know I can.¡±


    Vernon says nothin of the fact that the only thing which Kamon really offered us was the idea of power.


    ¡°Everything has changed now that there are eye-witness accounts of a new Enlightneed in Mecraentos. It was probably a good thing you moved your warehouse to fool me¡ªyou fooled the Lime Men and Rubies inadvertently.¡±


    I rest my head against Vernon¡¯s shoulder as black spots pepper my vision.


    Switchin up the warehouses?


    ¡°I am not tricking you all,¡± Yaselle repeats. ¡°You can keep Asio with you until the home is provided. You have Heish. You have one of mine.¡±


    ¡°How do we know that this home will be safe?


    ¡°I can have my men stationed¡ª¡±


    ¡°How can we trust your men?¡±


    ¡°Well,¡± she says slowly, ¡°if you are that suspicious then you should truly remain alone. Kamon, how come you trust him?¡±


    Vernon doesn¡¯t answer.


    ¡°If Asaio is this powerful, why should we give him to anybody?¡± Flynn says.


    ¡°Suns,¡± she says. ¡°Because only I have the resources to actually make his power worthwhile. Don¡¯t you see? The Enlighteneds are nothing but a praised imagine. I can make him that. You all will be elevated with him¡ªhis Apostles. His Prophets. He is exactly what every gang wants¡ªpower against the Rubes, the nobles, the Industries, whatever it is. You kids have nothing. You are nothing but children. I am offering everything I¡¯ve got. If you do not take my hand, I guarantee you lot will be arrested, sent to the Slaughter Houses, and Asaio here will be taken into the Fortress and brought to his knees in front of the Court. If you think the Slaughter Houses are bad, the Court is even worse. I am sure my Bugs have found your friends now and¡ª¡±


    ¡°They wouldn¡¯t have,¡± Vernon says.


    She brushes back a piece of long hair. ¡°No hero is as smart as he believes himself to be.¡±


    ¡°They wouldn¡¯t have found them.¡±


    She waves her hand. ¡°Fine. Go. Walk away. I¡¯ll watch, safe and happy, as you lot are slowly hunted down by every man, every woman in this City. I guarantee you won¡¯t even last three Moons. There are none more vicious than the starving zealous.¡± She glances at Flynn. ¡°I can tell he knows I am right.¡±


    Flynn wears a pained expression, his pale face even paler. He chokes and covers it with a cough.


    ¡°It ain¡¯t worth it,¡± I say. ¡°We can¡¯t run forever, if we have to, and we¡¯ll probably have to, Vernon. It ain¡¯t worth losin all of you for one, and y¡¯all won¡¯t even lose me. You won¡¯t.¡±


    Vernon glowers. He rubs his face and lets out a dramatic sigh. Then he turns to face me.


    ¡°You¡¯re okay with this?¡±


    ¡°I¡¯ve been.¡±


    ¡°Asaio¡ª¡±


    ¡°I know, I know,¡± I say. I know what happened to Seran. ¡°It¡¯s fine, Vernon. This is better than Kamon.¡±


    With an expression so pained you would¡¯ve though I was bein sent to my death, he turns to Yaselle. ¡°Fine. How do we¡­ officiate this?¡±


    ¡°Can any of you read?¡± Yaselle says.


    ***


    Yaselle leads us down the hallway into a similarly sparsely decorated room, covered in dust and debris, but much better lit and with a stone table in the center. The others all keep a pointed eye on Yaselle while she shuffled through a skin-bag of stone tablets. I lean against Seht and let myself finally breathe. My hands shake beneath the table. Seht takes my hand.


    A tall, gruff woman steps in from aside and whispers to Yaselle.


    ¡°The Shaver?¡± she repeats.


    I know she said it out loud specifically for us to hear. Vernon barely manages to wipe the smirk off his face.


    ¡°Well, well.¡±


    And that¡¯s that. She turns back to us and gestures at the tablet.


    ¡°In the times of old,¡± she says, ¡°words used to be binding. But since the plague and the discovery of Purity and all its rules, that is no longer true. So we use blood-bindings to solidify deals. I do not know if you all are aware of the Code of Conduct.¡±


    Vernon¡¯s face must have said somethin.


    ¡°It is a silent agreement between the gangs of the City, and the Industry, and the authorities. It means that we are bound by blood, on occasion. When you are really a part of the game, you are not a savage. You do not raid for fun and kill for fun, as many of the lesser gangs do, and hope that gives you power. Fear mongering is no power.¡±


    ¡°The Rubies¡ª¡±


    ¡°What they do is not fear mongering,¡± she says. ¡°No, they are much more sophisticated than that. You will sign in your blood, here, agreeing that Asaio is one of my own, that I am responsible for him. Not one of yours.  In exchange for all resources asked, I will provide. All. That is all you need to do.¡±


    On top of the stone slabs are crudely cut symbols. ¡°Are those words?¡± Ana says.


    ¡°Yes,¡± she says. ¡°The best gangs are not illiterate, either. I have a home for you all in Minee.¡±


    The others react in surprise to that. Minee is the alternate name for the ¡®Mini City¡¯, the slum of all slums in Mecraentos.


    ¡°That place is a wreck,¡± Vernon says.


    ¡°It won¡¯t be for long,¡± she says. ¡°And, besides, you will have a lot more freedom there.¡±


    ¡°Shimmy grew up there,¡± Ana murmurs.


    ¡°Did he?¡± Seht says.


    I can see in the bag that there are many other plates. I wonder if this was planned too, that she¡¯s lettin us see how many other contracts she got written in there, to prove she is trustworthy. Yaselle tells Vernon and Ana how they are to sign¡ªit¡¯s real particular. An art, she says.


    Vernon and Ana sign.


    After that, we are bandaged up and escorted out of the tunnel by Yaselle herself. It¡¯s a long, silent walk to the surface. We were further underground than I realized. When we finally break the surface, a new dawn rises. These proceedings took nearly the entire night.


    Yaselle says she will escort us to the warehouse to gather the others so that we can safely move to Minee.


    ¡°Don¡¯t bring the rest of your Bugs,¡± Vernon says. ¡°They make me nervous. Just you.¡±


    ¡°A test of trust,¡± she says. ¡°Of course.¡±


    We never make it back to the warehouse with her.


    We¡¯re only a few legs away from the tunnels, enterin the heart of the City, when Vernon glances at Seht and Ana and a silent agreement comes between em.


    Because Seht grabs my arm, and then we book it.


    We sprint, leapin over familiar roofs, Nep and Pen lurchin to keep Yaselle away. But, when I turn back to glance at her, I see that she didn¡¯t even attempt to follow us. She just watches with a smile.


    My legs burn. I can hardly think straight and I nearly black out from dehydration and exhaustion. Eventually, after eight hundred jarrin left and right turns, passin right over the Black Streets and a long string of angry people in Bread Lines, we pause to catch our breath.


    I glance at Vernon. ¡°Why¡ª¡±


    ¡°I don¡¯t give a damn bout no contract,¡± Vernon says. ¡°They¡¯re all the same. The Bugs, the Gem Lady. We are bringing Asaio back home. We ain¡¯t just any kids, not just any street rats. We are the Garnets. We¡¯ve conned nobles. We¡¯ve escaped death countless times. We¡¯ll figure something out. We always do.¡±


    Ana frowns, and her expression worries me slightly.


    Vernon¡¯s always been a bit of a romantic. I think he¡¯s sorta got to be, growin up with the crazy, smart, hero brother like Seran. A real rags to riches, orphan underdog sort of case. It¡¯d be nice to think it¡¯s that easy: got the right heart and brains to outsmart a lady like Yaselle, as though our petty street thievin has really trained us to be the exception.


    I want to hope. So I do.


    ***


    It takes us a long time to make it back to the ¡®warehouse¡¯ cause we¡¯re takin backroads and, apparently, no one¡¯s even at the warehouse anymore.


    The others explain to me what happened in fractured details.


    After Asher went back to the others with Yaselle¡¯s deal on his tongue, he had a feelin that the Garnets would either take too long to come up with a suitable agreement regardin it or that Yaselle would get antsy and sends Bugs to ensure they made it to Punnet Street and agreed to it. So, before even comin to get me, he arranged a plan with Vernon. When he came back, he would go to Michie¡¯s on Punnet Street and throw the Bugs off our location in an old apartment that ain¡¯t bein used right now. There, a group of lickers were waitin thanks to a call from Isaela and Sans¡ªwho were contacted by Vernon¡ªand the Bugs had to deal with em, effectively wastin time they could have used to find the Garnets. Even though they have a deal with the lickers, the Bugs are responsible for the huge amount of damage done to the docks and, because of whatever drama is about to be caused with the Damaskragan merchant, the lickers ain¡¯t feelin as sympathetic towards them as usual. It eventually led to an actual brawl, since the Bugs send to collect the Garnets were all young, hot-headed, low-ranked sorts, much to the dismay of Michie and the other residents of Punnet.


    But Asher and Vernon knew that Yaselle would know about the cop-out and eventually find the real warehouse. So, while this was happenin, the other Garnets were movin out to back-up location where, apparently durin his first Moons in Mecraentos, Asher hid out. They gave the real warehouse to the kids from Carnum and Catum, where the second wave of Bugs went. Then those Bugs had to explain why they came in guns blazin, teeth barred at the kids they were supposed to have under their sworn protection, and explain that to an extremely pissed off Mistress. She wanted extra compensation and safety regulations be enforced for The Shaver in exchange for such a scare, considerin she thought they were finally gettin these kids the better home they were promised when recruited under Yaselle.


    While that was happenin, Ana and Vernon planned to get me out.


    ¡°You all did all that?¡±


    Got the lickers and the Bugs off our backs while helpin out the kids at the brothel? In one sweep?


    Ana nods. ¡°Asher helped a lot. If it were just up to Vernon, he would have just broken in and hoped there were no consequences.¡±


    ¡°The plan was much better than that,¡± Vernon snaps.


    ¡°I like Asher,¡± Seht says. ¡°But why help us after knowing us for just a few Moons?¡±


    ¡°I¡ª¡± I try.


    ¡°Isn¡¯t it obvious?¡± Ana says. She nods at me. ¡°It¡¯s because he¡¯s¡­ Enlightened.¡±


    The word don¡¯t feel real spoken on Ana¡¯s tongue.


    ¡°He called me Illuminated,¡± I say.


    ¡°We¡¯ve had suspicions,¡± Ana says softly. ¡°But the prophecies, I mean I figured¡ª¡±


    ¡°We can¡¯t talk bout this now,¡± Seht says. ¡°Come on. Let¡¯s go back to the others, okay? We¡¯re too exposed here.¡±


    They all agree, but the way Ana said that scares me.


    I ain¡¯t no different than I was a Moon ago. Another wave of nausea hits me.


    The idea that Asher may be helpin us because of me don¡¯t feel right.


    I believe in good people. Some part of me, I know, really likes Asher, and some part of me fixates on the idea that he may have only wanted to be my friend because of my alleged Enlightenment¡ªI don¡¯t want to be seen as just some phenomenon. Like the boy in the Fortress Seran spoke of.


    It¡¯s one thing to know you¡¯re different from other people. It¡¯s a whole other whirlwind for the public to know it too.


    ***


    We arrived too late. The second warehouse location ain¡¯t a warehouse but a cave surrounded by a thick onslaught of trees and brush, tucked into the corner of Mecraentos, closer to the Fortress than anythin. Where a bunch of tourists would come from if they didn¡¯t take the legal transportation routes and decided to ride the slave-carts instead. The red sky seems to bleed more than it usually does. The Suns burn hot.


    The entire place is swarmed by Lime Men.


    Dozens of em, poolin into the mouth of the cave. I can see some of the younger Garnets escapin into the nearby trees, climbin like feral creatures. Lahla has a gun in her hand, shootin from atop the trees that she climbed with the ease of a squirrel. Mustletop and Genaieve also got guns, shootin wildly and inexperiencedly at the Lime Men. One grabs Mustletop by the leg and drags him to the ground. It¡¯s absolute chaos.


    Lime Men are distinguished by their black nails and tattoos. Some tattoo their eyes to be dark as the night. It alienates their features from the rest of us. So, when those pearly blacks land on us, they seem to be the eyes of Soulless monsters.


    ¡°Shit!¡± Vernon says.


    ¡°They¡¯re after me,¡± I whisper. Seht slaps the back of my head runs towards Ellie-Darlin, who is rapidly leapin from tree to tree.


    ¡°Fire!¡± she screams. ¡°They have arson-flower! Fire! Fire! Fire!¡±


    Just as she yells that, a tree erupts into flames. But not cause of any arson-flower.


    Sittin up from one of the trees is Asher, with his bow and arrow. The arrowheads are flamin. He¡¯s settin Lime Men on fire. Screams come from all around me.


    Adrenaline courses through me and my heart sets to stone. This place is surrounded by an insane amount of branches and leaves whose whispers are so loud they almost drown out the sounds of battle. They yearn to fight. They hate the fire just as much as us.


    It¡¯s like somethin has been unlocked within me. I don¡¯t got to stay hidden anymore.


    I step out of the light and let the trees bend to my will.


    ***


    It¡¯s all hazy after that. I know I didn¡¯t do much damage, but I held off enough Lime Men for my friends to escape. Eventually, I blacked out.


    Conversation came in blurs. Someone was carryin me bridal-style. I think it was Vip.


    ¡°Go, go, go!¡± I heard Vernon yell. ¡°Split up! Before they bring reinforcements! You all know the Spider-Route! Asaio? Asaio, someone grab him!¡±


    I vaguely remember one of the trees whisperin to me, locotatuira are poisonous when consumed.


    They leaves ain¡¯t ever spoken to me before, not like that.


    One of the Lime Men. I¡¯d caught him by the waist with a branch, forced his mouth open, and forced him to swallow the deadly flower after I¡¯d had another branch pick it from the ground; an extension of my own body.


    Asher nearly missed the guy behind me and flames erupted against my back. Someone tried to cut out Kim¡¯s tongue.


    ¡°Where are we going?¡± Shimmy said at some point.


    ¡°Back to Yaselle,¡± Asher responded. ¡°It¡¯s your best chance.¡±


    ¡°I thought you said¡ªI thought you promised we wouldn¡¯t have to be with her, Vernon! We can run somewhere else, we can¡ª¡±


    ¡°Where¡¯s Ellie? Is she okay? Oh, Suns, Ellie!¡± someone said.


    ¡°I can¡¯t breathe-I can¡¯t breathe¡ª¡±


    ¡°Someone catch her!¡±


    ¡°Go that way! Go that way! Now, now, now!¡±


    ¡°Where¡¯s Crass? I don¡¯t see Crass, or Malloo!¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m so dizzy¡­ my shirt is covered in blood.¡±


    ¡°How did they find us so fast?¡±


    ¡°Cause they¡¯re better than us, that¡¯s why!¡± Vernon yelled. ¡°Damn it!¡±


    ¡°Shut up and move!¡± Crimson snapped. ¡°Where¡¯s Uyala and Kim? Who has Kim?¡±


    ¡°Hey, where are you going? Asher?¡±


    ¡°For Heish!¡±


    The Spider Routes. Different emergency escape routes we¡¯ve had in case we all get caught as a collective, to minimize bein caught as one. Save as many as we can.


    We ran. Or, really, I didn¡¯t run. Someone had to carry me.

 Ash and Stone XVI - X

    X


    He knew they were coming. If not the Lime Men, someone else would. It¡¯s only common sense. He told Vernon he should just accept whatever terms Yaselle laid out, but Vernon didn¡¯t want to listen. The others didn¡¯t either. How could he explain that she would be the lesser of two evils, if there were such a thing in this world? How could he explain to children raised to con the game-master that most games are not played to be finished at all? They just end.


    The Lime Men are brutal. Cliff-Man wasn¡¯t wrong when he said that the gangs of Mecraentos City were more vicious and cunning than given credit for. In the other Cities, they are seen just as byproducts of the general poverty¡ªand they are, but he has slowly surmised that they control an entire underground ecosystem, one that the Garnets have yet to grasp yet.


    For some reason, they seem unaffected by the plague at all. They demolish the cave which he lived in when he first ventured the City. They follow the Garnets with their guns blazing and their high carriages, who scramble around the City with imprecise feet and a panicked air. He does what he can to keep the Lime Men off their trail.


    Vernon heads straight back to their original warehouse.


    ¡°Stop it,¡± he calls to Vernon. ¡°Minee is safer!¡±


    Vernon keeps on.


    ¡°Sik¨¦,¡± he curses.


    The shipments stolen from the Damaskragan ship are still with Michie. The fact that the Garnets accomplished such a high-risk job is an accomplishment, he wants to tell Vernon. It was only their willing ignorance to keep the Illuminated One in their midst which ignited the spark of their downfall tonight.


    Instead, he runs back into the heart of the flaming cave.


    Two Lime Men are still alive. They are bulky, their plague marked on them like proud tattoos. Both have pitch-black eyes, like his own¡ªa feature he knows to be a mark of those descended from the Javimoe Desert people. When they see him, they charge. One has clearly physically enhanced muscle, while the other opens his mouth and a long, spiking tongue slips out.


    He turns around. With feet which have done this thousands of times before, he clambers up the side of a plague-ridden tree which infests the cave, so that he is a dozen legs over the Lime Men.


    He lights another arrow from his perch and aims true. When they try to climb the tree, he shoots one in the back three times. These two are not agile or lean enough to be secure in the fragile branches.


    They look at him like rabid animals, relishing in their blind power. Their blind following of whoever told them that the Illuminated One was worth more than their two lives together. He shoots the second in the eye.


    If you spot this story on Amazon, know that it has been stolen. Report the violation.


    His back muscles are sore and his fingertips bleed because of the weight of the bow and the coarseness of the strings, but he hardly feels it. He coughs as the smoke tries to suffocate him, his eyes wet and stinging.


    He clambers up to the top-section of the cave. It is buried into a small hill on the edge of the City. It does not look natural. Indeed, it looks as though it were a result of an explosion.


    Hidden within a hollow log, he pulls out a terrified little boy with wide, pale eyes.


    ¡°Hello, Heish.¡±


    The boy is clearly of noble blood. With healthy tanned skin and dark hair, his cheeks are full and flushed. He does not have any bones exposed. A good specimen of a child.


    The boy cries and has been crying for quite some time. He has probably not been in the midst of so much violence before this last week¡ªprobably didn¡¯t even think this amount of bloodshed was possible anywhere besides a Slaughter House. And, even then, a Slaughter House is ethical.


    He carries the boy in his arms as he clambers back down into the mouth of the cave.


    ¡°Sit down,¡± he tells Heish once they are on the ground. The boy, of course, is obedient. It¡¯s the only thing to be taught by the Bundala in the Fortress. Heish just coughs and cries silently.


    The smoke is bad but not abhorrent. It just is, as most things are.


    He always searches for bodies. A habit from his work over the cycles. He closes the eyes of the dead Lime Men.


    He finds the dead fascinating. He can spend hours just staring at a rotted body, coming up with its life story based on its clothes, the cuts on its right arm, the size of the coin pouch in its pocket, if it has been chained or not. He is not sure how much time passes, looking at this dead Lime Man, for his mind wanders, putting together memories and images from long ago and reflecting on this man. He has red-hair, like his own, but it is clearly dyed, unlike his own. He pokes the cheek of the dead man. Then he grabs its hand. He takes out one of his arrow-heads and stabs the wrist. He leans down and drinks from the open vein¡ªit is hot.


    It is a custom of his people to drink the blood of the wrist when killing a mark.


    Here, in this City, they consume all of the body¡ªnothing left unused or untouched. But that is because they have not mastered the art of plague-crop and fasting.


    There is another body, shrouded in the gray.


    ¡°Damn,¡± he whispers, seeing that the body is that of a young girl. Curly-haired and once bright-Souled.


    He doesn¡¯t know her name, but she was one of the girls that swam her friends to the red Damaskragan ship. The tall one. She seemed kind.


    Three bullets to the head. The forehead. The cheek. The eye socket. Precise and clean.


    He knows that the Garnet children will be devastated by this because that is another thing that just is. Grief is as inevitable as this violent meeting was. He closes her eyes and carries her body, setting it besides Heish.


    Heish flinches but does not try to scramble away. In less than a week, he has become as insensitive to death as all those beyond the Walls are.


    ¡°The Rubies want you for some reason, for something important, according to Yaselle,¡± he says. ¡°She went through a great deal of effort to grab you from the Five Pitters. Do you know why?¡±


    The boy shakes his head.


    ¡°Okay. Well, you¡¯re going to come with me to rest with my new companions. Are you part of the Court? No? Your family? Well, I have a few questions for you. Do you know what a Washer is? Come.¡±


    END OF ASH AND STONE.

 Flame and Parchment I - Nadya

    NADYA


    Kaki is called to the Court to discuss what we saw in the City regarding the Boneheads. I am not called. The words of an Ospry may be tainted, for Ospry are indulgent in their tales and are prone to drawing stories of the truth.


    In the meanwhile, I visit the Temples with Missus Yarna for Prayer, and then to get my Soul checked by the Purifiers. As we wait in the line, I cannot keep myself from shaking. I think of all those bodies in the City, how their Souls hadn¡¯t even the chance to wait in a line that I once thought was so dreadfully long. I can feel Missus Yarna¡¯s careful gaze on me, but cannot tell if it is concern or scorn.


    My Soul feels dirty. Tainted by the City.


    Tainted by a City which calls to Kaki, a City which is Kaki¡¯s only escape.


    ¡°Keep your chin up,¡± Missus Yarna commands. ¡°Stop sulking. Stop feeling sorry for yourself.¡±


    I straighten my back.


    In their silent cottages, with their weaved mats and the drapes which cover all of their figures, the Purity Checkers tell me, once more, that my fractures have not healed, that I clearly am on a path away from healing and have not been putting my heart into my Prayers. My eyes water at this sentiment, for I Prayed well right beforehand; for both myself and the wellbeing of my best friend.


    When the Purity Checker notices this moisture in my eyes, I can feel the disappointment radiate from them. They say nothing, but I know.


    What is the personal comfortability of my own mere self in comparison to that of the woman I am supposed to wish to ascend to be? Why cry at criticism which comes from a good heart to make my heart good? I am being ridiculous.


    As we leave the cottages of the Checkers, I flinch. A dark shadow had crept its way behind me, but it is only a young noble boy, wearing a beautiful blood-coated arma.


    Missus Yarna eyes me. ¡°Nadya.¡±


    ¡°Sorry,¡± I mutter. ¡°I¡¯m just distracted.¡±


    ¡°The Sergeants said you ran off,¡± she says. ¡°What is it that Lightened Bakiyoria had you do?¡±


    ¡°Nothing,¡± I say. ¡°We were just scared, that¡¯s all.¡±


    She stops right as we are about to enter the courtyard. Dozens of women and men in frocks like our own walk past, smiling and laughing. A few legs away, a group of folk singers. These are the men and women of the Fortress, hidden behind a wall that keeps us away from the rest of the world. My head pounds.


    ¡°I understand the Lightened better than you do,¡± Missus Yarna says. This is incorrect, and I feel oddly protective of the fact that I am sure no one knows Kaki better than I do, especially after he opened up to me in the middle of a blood-torn street.


    ¡°I say this many times, but I greatly disapprove of how he influences you. Nadya, you are special. Understand this.¡± She points at my face, to the disgusting burns which reside. ¡°Those marks are the marks of the Suns. They kept you alive. They marred your skin to remind you that you have already been through a hellish trial before your consciousness was even formed. Whatever it is he wanted to show you in the City, it is not worth risking your own safety. The Boneheads are dangerous peoples, and there are so many more other savage sorts beyond these walls, Nadya. Understand me. The rest of the world does not cherish other Souls like those of us in the Fortress do.¡±


    ¡°I¡ª¡±


    I find my eyes watering.


    I have never interpreted my burns to represent such; Missus Yarna has never been so sentimental.


    ¡°I only want what is best for you.¡± And, when she looks into my eyes, I realize that this is true. I almost think that she tries to take my hand, but her plague-ridden limbs prevent her from doing so. They spasm and twitch in front of me, so much so that I am forced to look away.


    ¡°Did you grow up in the City, Missus?¡± I ask.


    ¡°I grew up in Sal Gasve.¡±


    ¡°I know little of that City,¡± I say.


    ¡°So do I,¡± she says. ¡°Understand, however. You would rather die in this Fortress than in any City¡ªMecraentos or Sal Gasve.¡±


    I glance up at the red sky. They say the sky is red for that is the color of Pure blood, unlike the black which runs through my veins.


    Kirill, Gerasim¡ªmy Suns. How do you decide someone worthy of living? Is it selfish of us to determine our quality of living as insufficient, unjust? Or is that supposed to be motivation, to hope for something better?


    But what if I discover there is no better? There is never a guarantee, is there?


    ***


    When my first round of chores is done, I walk over to the Courthouse. It is found beside one of the theaters, the Theater of Kirill. This is where the Court has most of their meetings. It is not a luxurious building. Like everything built in this military Fortress, it had humble beginnings, and thus is still the same stone and mortar which the rest of our capital dons. It is quite ugly, actually. It is a huge heap of a block, with not much to say for itself. What catches my eye are the men and women who sit around it, who wear pearls and bright dresses and bright suits¡ªthe latest fashions.


    I wonder if the children in the City and their colorful quilts can imagine such dresses.


    Another shadow comes upon me. My breath hitches and I whip around.


    ¡°Nadya?¡±


    Standing behind me is Lightened Roe, with her hawkish face, donning a less fashionable dress¡ªyet it still highlights her slim, girlish figure in an extremely flattering way. My eyes widen.


    ¡°Lightened,¡± I say. I stand up hastily and raise a hand to my forehead, then proceed with an awkward curtsy.


    I¡¯ve not seen Lightened Roe since Chrysan¡¯s performance.


    When I make eye contact with her, I find her eyes to be wide, full of concern. She glances at the Courthouse. ¡°Yoria was summoned to meet with the Court, wasn¡¯t he?¡±


    ¡°Yes,¡± I say.


    ¡°It must have been terrifying,¡± she says softly, her gaze still on the building, ¡°trapped in that City with those Bonehead brutes.¡±


    I can only nod.


    ¡°How are you? I feel as though no one asks the servants this, how they are.¡± She waves a hand. ¡°We only do this. Wave the bell. But no one has seen such devoted people. I could never do the work of the Rain Keepers. Nor the Gate Keepers, nor the Kitchen Keepers. Nor a personal hand-maiden, as you. I heard that the drive was strenuous, and the protest a terrifying sight. They were killing children with poisons, the Boneheads. Just to prove a point.¡±


    I know quite little of Lightened Roe¡¯s character, but these words surprise me.


    My mouth is dry. I do not know why this has happened twice, this lack of speech¡ªthe first being the Moon at her chamber door, with the necklace. As though I were a fool.


    As does what she said about the Boneheads. ¡°The Boneheads killed no children,¡± I say. ¡°They just threatened to.¡±


    ¡°I see,¡± she says. ¡°What were they like?¡±


    ¡°Excuse me?¡±


    ¡°The Boneheads,¡± she says. ¡°You saw them, didn¡¯t you? What were they like, if you do not mind my asking. I do not mean to be insensitive.¡±


    ¡°No, you are not being so,¡± I assure her. ¡°They¡ªwell, I didn¡¯t get a good glance. Their leader was an old man, and he was shot in the forehead.¡±


    She gasps, raising a hand daintily to her sharp, glaring lips; a hand that seems not so dainty at all. ¡°Suns forgive him.¡±


    ¡°Suns forgive him.¡±


    A short silence ensues. I glance away, my cheeks burning.


    Lightened Roe gestures towards the Courthouse. ¡°It is beautiful, is it not?¡±


    ¡°I¡­ suppose so.¡±


    She laughs lightly, quite a musical laugh. ¡°No. Not externally, not the building, no. But the Court. We have so little information on people like the Boneheads. It is quite hard to get information on anything, you see, when its people are so determined to shroud themselves in the Underground. But those men and women in there? They are the greatest minds, all together at one round table. It is a beautiful thing, to have a single epicenter of knowledge. Do you not agree?¡±


    ¡°I¡­ yes,¡± I say.


    I think of the men and women I saw chained on the streets, the broken fences, the sheer amount of smoke in the red hair.


    ¡°A blessing of the Suns,¡± I say.


    ¡°I Prayed, last night, for those involved in the protest,¡± Lightened Roe says.


    ¡°Really?¡±


    ¡°Yes,¡± she says. ¡°For their prosperity and their recovery. It is the least I can do. That is something else. Many complain of the savagery of the City, but if we think the lessers so savage, the least we can do is to ask for their recovery; their transformation. It is true that the Suns may guide us, but us of higher Purity must also assure the Suns that we need less guidance than our others.¡±


    I think of Jeran. Some part of what she says makes me hesitate to speak, but this seems to be my own foolishness whenever she is within three legs of me.


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    Something about Lightened Roe¡¯s voice is like a sirenic lullaby. It draws you and forces you to hang onto every word.


    Yet¡ª


    I think of how Kaki reacted to my interpretation of Chrysan¡¯s play.


    ¡°I do not think they are savage people.¡±


    At the sight of her shocked face, I regret my words. I am too used to having a slippery, indulgent tongue when I am with Kaki¡ªwho is anything but courteous of social expectations. ¡°I¡¯m sorry¡ª¡±


    ¡°No, I do not mean to be demeaning,¡± she says quickly. ¡°But¡­ you know. Sorry.¡±


    ¡°No, I get it. It is nice that you Pray for them,¡± I say. ¡°I am sometimes frustrated with K¡ªLightened Bakiyoria that he takes Prayer not so seriously at all.¡±


    ¡°Prayer is what keeps me Pure,¡± she says with wide eyes. ¡°Prayer is the hedge of our being. My own servant, Venara, does not understand this well either. She Prays, but she is not devout. You understand the difference?¡±


    I nod, perhaps a little too enthusiastically.


    ¡°You understand,¡± she says softly.


    Just then, the front door to the Courthouse swings open. It is as though Kaki steps out of an abyss. Behind him, there is no way for the average person to glance at the doings of the Court. It is all dark. Every shroomlamp and candle having been shut off. There is no way to eavesdrop on the most important peoples of Mecraentos Kingdom.


    Since he found out about his potential arranged marriage, a small cloud of weariness hangs over him. Not quite a real cloud¡ªit takes a lot to truly weigh down Kaki. Even when he was bullied, he never spoke of loneliness nor despair, not like he did those few Moons ago in the City. But just enough for me to notice. Me and me only.


    His eyes light up at the sight of me. They dim at the sight of Lightened Roe.


    ¡°Roe,¡± he says. ¡°What are you doing here?¡±


    ¡°I only stopped to speak to Nadya,¡± she says. ¡°You are quite lucky with her, Yoria. She is extremely intelligent, if you didn¡¯t know.¡±


    ¡°I do know that,¡± Kaki says. ¡°I¡¯ve always known that.¡±


    She smiles. ¡°That¡¯s nice.¡±


    ¡°Yes. Nadya is.¡±


    Something about Kaki¡¯s expression is bothersome, as though he is bothered by her.


    ¡°How was it?¡± I say.


    ¡°Fine,¡± he says. ¡°Nothing useful happened, as is the way with the Court.¡±


    I see Lightened Roe purse her lips, but she only says, ¡°And how are your Trials coming along, Yoria?¡±


    ¡°Bakiyoria,¡± he corrects. ¡°And I¡¯ve put as little effort into them as possible.¡±


    ¡°Don¡¯t you mean ¡®as much?¡¯¡±


    ¡°No. Learn to listen.¡±


    I stand up suddenly. ¡°Okay, Kaki. Let¡¯s go. You need to wash your hair and eat. You skipped the morning meal.¡± I press my hand to my forehead. ¡°Goodbye, Lightened Roe.¡±


    ¡°Goodbye, Nadya.¡±


    When we are a sufficient distance away from her, I glare at him. We stop in front of the folk singers. Their upbeat melodies and clapping of the drums becomes a comedic ambiance to the look I throw his way, but he does not dare wince. I feel eyes turn towards us, at the sight of the one and only Bakiyoria. I treat him no differently.


    Luckily, there are only a few that see us in such a way¡ªmost are too focused on the singers.


    ¡°What?¡± he says. He casts a look over at the bystanders.


    ¡°That was rude,¡± I say.


    ¡°I know.¡±


    ¡°You should apologize.¡±


    ¡°I know.¡±


    He runs a hand through his greasy hair. I was not lying. It needs a wash.


    I let my gaze soften. ¡°How was it really?¡±


    Kaki has visited the Court more times than any other noble child, especially when he was younger, due to his Purity and lack of Enlightenment. It is often not a place he associates positively. ¡°As I said, fine,¡± he says. ¡°I hate the smell of that place. It smells incredibly dusty, but a rotted dust. Everyone knows it is there, but no one is willing to take up a brush.¡±


    I just nod.


    ¡°I remained just by the door, where the Court couldn¡¯t see me for a few minutes,¡± Kaki says. ¡°Enlightened Everleigh told the Court of my potential marriage. They were fighting over it. Religious protests in Sal Gasve and the Javimoe have been getting worse¡ªthey believe an international marriage will give the people enough spectacle to unite them once more. They spoke of how cluttered the Slaughter Houses are. Too many are being sent for misconduct or because of the plague. It is a mess. And, of course, marriage would be the most fruitful distraction. They are waiting to see how well I do at my Trials, just like Aunt Everleigh said.¡±


    ¡°Kaki,¡± I say.


    ¡°Do you know what they say of the people in the Cratic? That they are just as icy and Soulless as their cold country. If I were to wed either one of the twins, it would be anything but a happy marriage.¡±


    ¡°I don¡¯t want you to marry.¡±


    ¡°Me neither. Anyways, I plan to leave the City tomorrow, to speak with Lucy. But the Watch and the Gate Keepers have been on edge because of the Boneheads. It¡¯s going to be harder to sneak out.¡±


    Perhaps a challenge being so difficult is a sign not to do it, I think. But I know that Kaki would fundamentally disagree with this thought.


    ¡°As long as nothing as dramatic as the protest happens once more,¡± Kaki says, ¡°the Watch and authorities should relax by tomorrow.¡±


    At that moment, the folk singers come to a silence. Filling the lack of sound are hundreds of gasps and from above. On the balconies which eject themselves from the hundreds of levels within the Fortress, men and women crowd, pointing somewhere over the wall. Clean, gloved hands pointing over the wall and words uttered that I am unable to make out. I glance at Kaki.


    We run up the stairs. My knees burn¡ªthey cry out, my plague-ridden bones making the wind seem colder. I trip over my own foot, knocking myself to the ground. I hit my arm against a particularly sharp stone slab and cry out.


    ¡°Nadya,¡± Kaki says. He reaches down to help me up, but I wave him away. It is only a scratch. The black blood seeps from within, and I wipe it on my frock.


    We reach the top of the Valka Wing; another which is uninhabited, for the depressed and ennui-prone Valka are in the City.


    I want to imagine beautiful mountains beyond this wall.


    Instead, all I see are plumes of smoke, coming from the Southside.


    The fires burn bright and terrible. It licks the edges of the harbor, the boats burning. One is already wrecked, turning onto its side, while I see crowds struggling to break away. It is a mirage of hot red against the blue waters¡ªthe fire seems to merge with the sky, as though its destructive nature were just an extension of our beautiful Suns¡¯ domain.


    All seems still on the ever-burning harbor, despite the rushing waves and clawing flames. It seems still. It seems as though it were meant to be.


    My eyes water and I touch the burn mark on my face. I think of what Missus Yarna said about my burns. May this be another test of the Suns? And, thus, is it as beautiful as I know I horribly think it to be? Such pretty colors may always draw the worst of nature.


    Another woman waits on the balcony besides our own. She is shorter than I, mostly covered by the stone railings and overhangs. She holds a hand to her mouth. ¡°I can smell the smoke from here,¡± she says. ¡°It is sickening. I feel as though I am going to faint. It was the Boneheads! The Boneheads! They are trying to suffocate us all!¡±


    ¡°The Boneheads did not do this,¡± Kaki says.


    The woman only now seems to register our existence. ¡°Lightened Bakiyoria,¡± she breathes. ¡°Tell them to stop this! Tell them to stop this?¡±


    He frowns. ¡°Why me?¡±


    ¡°They say you were there when the Boneheads killed the children. You know them. Tell them to stop this!¡±


    Kaki turns from her wordlessly, the shadows which cast him even darker in comparison to the flame.


    ***


    The Feast of the Young for this week calls upon Lightened Kattalina and the Sen Fair once more. I watch with a weary eye as Kaki remains utterly silent on the floor beside the Youth table. I note that Lightened Roe pointedly sat on the opposite end from him.


    Lightened Kattalina has a list of sign-ups for the Sen-Fair. She reiterates its usefulness to the nobles once again, how the seventeen Moon retreat¡ªtwo weeks¡ªwill help cleanse the Soul and bring them all closer to Enlightenment, and to each other.


    LIghtened Kattalina speaks of the Boneheads and the fires and the protests. How, in this time of great commotion, the poor Lighteneds need a retreat in order to heal from the recent trauma and stress which they may be experiencing. Both Kaki and Lightened Roe snicker at this notion. Lightened Kattalina says to Pray for those dire Souls in the City, for they need our support and ralliement. ¡°We must support the common people,¡± she says. ¡°We must.¡±


    Meanwhile, beyond the curtain, I wash their dishes, unable to speak to either.


    Despite this emphasization of the Sen-Fair, we learn that it is to be held somewhere within the City. How, I wonder, will they keep themselves away from ¡®the trauma and commotion¡¯ if they are in the midst of it?


    On my serving tray, I step out from the Kitchen with blood-curdled stew.


    The soup is a brownish-red color, the color of the sooty sidewalks splayed cycle after cycle with crimson. My hands shake. It bubbles, this soup, for it has just been curdled. My mouth goes dry. For the first time, I wonder. How many bodies were used to make this soup? How many of them came from the City? How much of this flesh was once kissed by a loved one, hugged by their child? How many of them were chained to dark, musty streets in the last legs of their lives¡ªonly to be boiled and salted for dainty hands sat cross-legged at a well-built table?


    I suddenly feel very ill. My arm aches.


    I nearly drop the tray. But I compose myself. Only Kaki notices my fumble.


    ***


    A body settles beside me in the Ospry Temple as I say my evening Prayers. I¡¯ve already Prayed my Redemption, Purity, and Gratitude with Missus Yarna and the other servants. This set is an extra set, a personal conversation between myself and my Moon. In a sense, this is also a Prayer of Redemption¡ªonly, I do not know what I must be redeemed of. Instead, in my own head and in a whisper beneath my breath, I describe my wrongdoings. Not defending Kaki on the balcony. Letting myself sneak around the City with him. I make sure my words are long and slow¡ªto keep from my natural state of overexcitement as an Ospry.


    I ask about the Voice which he speaks. Now that I have been given time for the idea to settle in, I beg the Suns to let us know if this may be a sign he does not understand. I would never tell him of this, but it is the only possible explanation I can find for his being able to read wordless books in a foreign, unlearned language.


    Perhaps, I think, I would benefit from something like the Sen-Fair. Guidance from experts in Purity and various Mothers or Fathers of the Temples.


    I Pray to redeem that thought. Once more, indulgence for what I do not have.


    When I am finished Praying, I glance over at who sat beside me. To my horror, it is LIghtened Roe.


    ¡°Lightened,¡± I hiss. ¡°You are too Pure to Pray in this Temple.¡±


    ¡°I know,¡± she says. ¡°That does not mean I must not appreciate Ospry¡¯s existence. Or your¡¯s. I figured you would be here. You are devout.¡±


    I don¡¯t know what to say. I feel my cheeks burn.


    ¡°Let us leave, Lightened,¡± I say.


    She nods, but runs a hand along the floor of this balcony, a fingernail of the hand which the Temple is shaped. ¡°This Temple is beautiful. The Hand of Beauty.¡± She taps a rhythm against the side. A sign of respect, imitating the musical lilt of Sun Kirill.


    When we are situated outside of my Moon¡¯s domain, I say, ¡°What do you need me for, Lightened?¡±


    ¡°I wanted to ask you to help me study for the Trials.¡±


    I blink. ¡°What?¡±


    ¡°I realized that Yo¡ªBakiyoria is putting minimal effort in for the Trials, and Venara¡ªwell, you work with her. She is hard to talk to, hard to bounce ideas off of.¡±


    I hardly know Venara. I really only speak to Walas, Ponnie, and Chi-Chi. But, from what I¡¯ve seen of her, I can understand where Lightened Roe is coming from. Venara is one of those people who cannot seem to follow instructions. All words spoken to her are consistently in one ear and out the other. They say she is sweet, but often in her own head. She struggles to hang laundry.


    Still, I glance at the Temple. ¡°I am Ospry, Lightened. I cannot help you study for anything. I have no education.¡±


    ¡°Yes, but you are intelligent,¡± LIghtened Roe says. ¡°I can study by myself, but I cannot tell myself whether my Thesis is good or not. Whether it is sound. I would like an outside eye to understand me. I can read it aloud to you. And I cannot have the other nobles see my work, you see.¡±


    ¡°Lightened, I do not think I am the best suited for that,¡± I insist. ¡°I really am not that intelligent, and I often have a sharp tongue. I don¡¯t¡ª¡±


    ¡°It is just listening to ideas,¡± she says. ¡°Nothing that requires strenuous thinking. I do understand your Purity. But, also, Nadya. I see you, at the Feasts. You listen to LIghtened Kattalina. You observe. I need a peer who observes. I believe you are capable of so much more than you could imagine. Does Yor¡ªBakiyoria never tell you this?¡±


    ¡°He does,¡± I say. ¡°He always does.¡±


    But, for some reason, the words feel different coming out of her mouth.


    ¡°If you keep working at healing your fractures, perhaps, one Moon, the Industry of Scholars may be open to meeting you. If I do succeed at these Trials, I would be forever in your debt.¡±


    ¡°Okay,¡± is all I manage.


    She smiles widely. ¡°Wonderful.¡±

 Flame and Parchment II - Asaio

    ASAIO


    I wake up in a dimly lit room with a low ceilin and thick stone turrets holdin the place up. I immediately sit up, heart poundin. I lay on somethin soft. I hate small spaces. My head comes in contact with somethin hard, and I hear Seht yell, ¡°Ow!¡± I realize that I was laid across his and Ellie-Darlin¡¯s laps, and my head hit his chin.


    ¡°Asaio,¡± Ellie-Darlin says. She grabs my face in her hands, runnin her fingers along my nose and mouth, the way she does when she wants to remember somethin or someone. Her lenses are gone, revealin her puffy, red eyes. Her hands shake and are icy cold.


    I want to ask what happened. ¡°Are you okay?¡± I say instead.


    She nods, but I notice that the tips of her fingers are red, the skin peelin. They had been burned. I grab her hand. ¡°Suns, Ellie. I¡¯m so sorry.¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s okay,¡± she whispers, but she has a very far-away look in her eyes.


    I lean to kiss her on the forehead. She flinches. I pull away.


    ¡°We¡¯re in the tunnel that Yaselle up and kept you in,¡± Seht says. ¡°When Asher found you.¡±


    I recognize it. The chair is gone. It is much stuffier, the air thicker and dustier. The door at the front is left wide-open.


    Around, in the dim light, I see Vip and Vernon and Lahla and all the other Garnets sat round us, but they are all slumped against one another. The only person standin is Vernon himself, pacin round the room. He rushes to my side when he realizes that I¡¯m awake. It reeks of blood and sweat. A couple muskets lay on the ground, but very far from everyone, like they can¡¯t stand to be in the vicinity of the weapons.


    When Vernon turns to me, I see that his eyes are red and puffy.


    ¡°What?¡± I say. ¡°What happened?¡±


    ¡°They burned it,¡± Vernon says.


    ¡°The cave?¡± I say. ¡°I know. I saw it burn.¡±


    I wonder if Vernon has some sort of similar trauma to fires that I didn¡¯t know about. The look in his eyes is so far from the confident, happy, fiddle-playin guy. Course, we¡¯ve just been through the ringer, but there¡¯s somethin different right now.


    ¡°No, not the fake warehouse,¡± he says. ¡°The real one. Our home, Asaio. The Lime Men burned it to the ground.¡±


    I am silent.


    Then: ¡°What?¡±


    I get the story in broken up pieces between the all of the Garnets. After runnin from the Lime Men, we then had to evade the lickers and a bunch of other gangs and stragglers. Seht used his plague-gift to carry me the entire damn time. But, apparently, I¡¯d taken out more Lime Men than I¡¯d given myself credit for. I¡¯d gain consciousnesses only to use my tree-whisperins to strangle someone or twist their neck or some other extremely violent, brutal death that I don¡¯t normally find myself drawn towards. Shimmy tells this part in extremely dramatic and graphic detail, to the point where Seht has to cover Uyala and Kim¡¯s ears¡ªboth, to my relief, are none-worse-for-wear.


    ¡°You had this dead look in your eyes and we would talk to you, but you wouldn¡¯t respond at all,¡± Shimmy says. ¡°We¡¯d only hear bones crack and necks snap and then you¡¯d be out again.¡±


    This is when I realize that Uyala is starin at me. But not her usual, bright-eyed stare.


    It¡¯s a fearful one.


    ¡°I don¡¯t remember none of that,¡± I say. ¡°I mean, I remember a vague dream bout a forest. There were whisperin trees then, I think, but not like that. I really don¡¯t remember nothin.¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s fine, Asaio,¡± Seht says.


    ¡°Your veins.¡± I grab Seht¡¯s arm. His arm is covered in black boils, but his veins are unsually prominent right now. Thick and pulsin and black.


    The thing bout plague-gifts is that they can be abused. The more you use the gift, it¡¯s likely that your plague symptoms get worse more rapidly. I feel terrible.


    ¡°It¡¯s fine,¡± he insists, pullin away. ¡°Can¡¯t keep your hands off me, can you?¡±


    ¡°Suns,¡± Ellie-Darlin says.


    Seht¡¯s leg is wrapped up crudely with someone¡¯s shirt. He got shot in the leg and still managed to carry me. Uyala, with her head of thick curly hair, climbs into her lap. She examines me coldly.


    Vernon had pulled away from the others in the Spider paths, they explain. He made it to the warehouse before anyone.


    Vernon interrupts Shimmy. ¡°I¡¯m tellin Asaio this part. It was all up in flames, Asaio. Every single piece of it. Nothin to be salvaged. All our trinkets, all the blankets we had, all the instruments we had, the-the art we stole, it¡¯s all gone. All of it. Our home, Asaio.¡±


    Lahla gets up and grabs her lover by the hands. ¡°Vernon¡ª¡±


    He pulls away from her and grabs me by the face. ¡°Do you understand?¡± he says, his eyes brimmin with tears. ¡°It¡¯s all gone. Again. Nothin to be salvaged. Not a single thing. And-¡±


    ¡°This ain¡¯t everyone,¡± I realize, lookin round the tunnel.


    Lahla shakes her head. ¡°We split up into the Spider groups. Ana, Crass, Crimson, and Mallo have not come back.¡±


    ¡°Or Asher,¡± Vernon says.


    ¡°Or Asher.¡±


    ¡°Yaselle said she¡¯d find them,¡± Genavieve says.


    ¡°I don¡¯t trust her,¡± Lahla says. ¡°I do not. I trust Ana. She¡¯ll bring them back safely.¡±


    But Lahla is not an optimistic person. She is the night where Vernon is the day, and it is clear she says this only for show. Her voice quivers. That is not usual for her either. The idea that Lahla may not be sure of herself is more terrifying than any Lime Man could be.


    ¡°We have to go back for em,¡± I say suddenly. We lost our home. Again. ¡°We have to back. Or, I should go after em. I should do somethin¡ª¡±


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    ¡°Don¡¯t be stupid,¡± Seht says, grabbin my arm.


    ¡°They were after me, they¡ª¡±


    ¡°Don¡¯t try to be a hero, Asaio,¡± Seht snaps. He glances pointedly at Vernon. ¡°There are no heroes in this City. If we go back out there, we all die. No one¡¯s in a state to up and go do something like a scout.¡±


    ¡°No,¡± I say. ¡°Ana and Crass and Crimson and Malloo¡ªthey wouldn¡¯t just leave me behind. You didn¡¯t. Stop it, Seht. Let me go. I said, let me go!¡±


    ¡°Asaio, wait¡ª¡± Ellie-Darlin tries. Everyone is yellin at each other at once, arguin.


    Suddenly, Vernon slams his fist into the wall. Every head turns to him. ¡°Fuck!¡± he curses. ¡°I shouldn¡¯t have¡ªSuns, Yaselle was right. She was right. We should have just taken her deal. Suns. Suns. I¡¯m so stupid. We couldn¡¯t¡ªI couldn¡¯t¡ª¡±


    He grabs his chest and takes a breath like it¡¯s the most difficult thing in the world.


    Lahla leaps to her feet and grabs her lover round the waist. It¡¯s easy to forget how much smaller she is than him. He buries his face into the nook of her neck while she whispers into his ear, incoherently to the rest of us.


    A silence comes over us.


    So I make them tell me the most horrific parts of us gettin here. Ellie-Darlin tries to protest, but he understands.


    The least I can do for not bein present when my family needed me the most is to be the one to carry the load of their ventin.


    Havin to jump fifteen legs off an apartment complex with me on his back, he admits. The way that the Lime Men caught Vip by the neck and hauled him away. He was only saved, miraculously, by an angry mob of women who could not stand to see another child abused. Uyala, who has the ability to shrink her small body¡ªsort of the opposite of Vernon¡¯s ability to extend his limbs¡ªwas lost for a time, and then found in Kim¡¯s pocket. Neither she or Kim cried, both not even eight. Genavieve bein lost and Mustletop goin back to her by climbin on rooftops he¡¯d never climbed before. Vernon savin Lahla from a bunch of lickers in the back of an alley. A romantic disposition, Shimmy assures. He tries to add onto these stories lightly, but my family are in a position of such mental strain it¡¯s horrendous.


    Flynn and his snakes lay asleep a few legs away.


    ¡°How is he?¡± I ask.


    Seht and Ellie-Darlin exchange a look. ¡°Not too well,¡± Seht says. ¡°He couldn¡¯t control himself.¡±


    ¡°Oh.¡±


    ¡°He was angry.¡±


    I glance round at the other Garnets, wonderin if any of them will fuss up on Flynn bout this, but then my mouth goes dry.


    ¡°Don¡¯t feel so bad about sleeping,¡± Seht says. ¡°Really. I think you were actually more useful half-asleep than while awake. Maybe your brain goes and works better when it¡¯s off.¡±


    ¡°We¡¯ve surely alerted Kamon,¡± Shimmy says. ¡°He knows that we were the ones who had taken the shipments.¡±


    ¡°What happened to those, by the way?¡± I say.


    ¡°We left them with Michie before coming to you.¡±


    ¡°What are we waitin here for?¡± I say. ¡°Yaselle?¡±


    ¡°The Lime Men know our faces, Asaio,¡± Seht says. ¡°So do the lickers and every other gang in the City, I¡¯m guessing. Kamon, too, and Punnet Street, cause we stole his stuff. And those Damaskragan merchants, if they cared. If we go out there, we¡¯re under fire again.¡±


    ¡°Yaselle told us about the deal you were supposed to make,¡± Genavieve says. ¡°A safe home. Protection. Money. For you.¡±


    ¡°Suns, we aren¡¯t starting this again¡ª¡± Seht says.


    ¡°Please tell me you took the deal,¡± I say. ¡°You should¡¯ve agreed the first time.¡±


    ¡°We don¡¯t know,¡± Shimmy says. ¡°That¡¯s why we¡¯re here. We¡¯re waiting for Yaselle to come back and we were waiting for you to wake up. To talk about it. And because we have nowhere else to go, like Seht said.¡±


    ¡°When Yaselle comes back, you¡¯re givin me up,¡± I say.


    ¡°Asaio¡ª¡± Seht tries.


    ¡°No,¡± I say. ¡°She promises us everythin just for me. Just for¡ª¡±


    ¡°Just for you?¡± a raspy, thin voice suddenly says. It is Shis-Aspinova. I hadn¡¯t registered her in the extreme darkness. It is like she is trying to stay as far away from our single shroomlamp as possible. ¡°Just for you? You¡¯re Enlightened.¡±


    ¡°Shis¡ª¡± Seht tries in that same warnin voice. I realize that multiple debates had probably been happenin while I was unconscious. I wonder, with alarm, how much time¡¯s passed.


    ¡°You¡¯re supposed to be¡­ you shouldn¡¯t exist,¡± Shis says.


    ¡°Shis,¡± Shimmy says. ¡°Stop. Now.¡±


    ¡°No,¡± she says. ¡°No, you can¡¯t tell me not to freak out when you don¡¯t tell Vernon the same thing, not when I have been living with someone who¡¯s ascended for two whole cycles. No, you don¡¯t get to tell me that, Shimmy.¡±


    ¡°I mean, haven¡¯t we had our suspicions?¡±


    ¡°No,¡± Shis says. ¡°No, because you don¡¯t think that one of your friends is Enlightened, Shimmy. When you ascend, it¡¯s an entire process, and it¡¯s overseen by the Fathers and Mothers of the Temples and the Purity Checkers. There are rituals. There are¡ªhe¡¯s never had his Soul checked. This is impossible. It¡¯s not possible.¡±


    ¡°Are we even sure he¡¯s Enlightened?¡± Seht says. ¡°Aren¡¯t there only supposed to be three?¡±


    ¡°He has no plague symptoms,¡± Shis says. ¡°He has an elemental gift. I should have realized it sooner, but you don¡¯t think¡ªno one thinks that their friend is a chosen one of the Suns. No one thinks that. No¡ª¡±


    ¡°Him being Enlightened changes nothing,¡± Seht says.


    ¡°It changes everything, don¡¯t you see?¡± Shis insists. ¡°Asaio will not die when we do. He will not experience the plague as we do.¡±


    ¡°We knew¡ª¡±


    ¡°His Soul is powerful,¡± Shis says. ¡°He¡¯s so Pure he could have been a noble. You could have lived in the Fortress. You¡¯ve beaten death, Asaio. You¡¯re¡ªwe¡¯re not worthy to be standing before you.¡±


    ¡°Shis¡ª¡±


    ¡°Seht, you don¡¯t get it¡ª¡±


    ¡°I do,¡± he huffs. ¡°I wanted my Soul to be Pure too. But Asaio hasn¡¯t changed magically, Shis. Look at him. Don¡¯t do what we did to Flynn. He¡¯s no different. He¡ª¡±


    Shis grabs my hands. I instinctively squeeze them tight. ¡°You could have a life,¡± she says slowly, ¡°so much better than the one you have, Asaio. You¡¯re better than all of us. You are so good, so Pure, that you ascended without even the help of a Father or a Mother or a Purity Checker. Your birthright is to be in the Court right now. And now we¡¯re just going to hand him off to some Bug? Asaio is worth all of our lives combined.¡±


    Shis leans down to kiss my knuckles. She clicks the her tongue rhythmically the way that she does when she Prays, and I pull away. ¡°Shis, don¡¯t do that¡ª¡±


    ¡°Enlightened Asaio,¡± she whispers.


    ¡°Shis, please. Really. Don¡¯t do that. I ain¡¯t changed at all or nothin.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m sorry,¡± she says. ¡°I don¡¯t want to overwhelm you, but¡­ Suns. No wonder your eyes were always two colors. It¡¯s said that the Enlighteneds have peculiar appearances. I can¡¯t believe I am standing in the presence of an Enlightened.¡±


    ¡°You¡¯re standing in the presence of Asaio,¡± Seht says.


    "Shis, stop," I say when she tries to take my hand again. I swat her away. "Shis, stop."


    That¡¯s when Shis takes a step back. She blinks very slowly.


    ¡°I don¡¯t get it,¡± she says. ¡°If you¡¯re the chosen one of the Suns, why did you mutilate those Lime Men like you did? That was so¡­ excessive. And¡ªand you¡¯re a thief.¡±


    ¡°Shis, stop,¡± I say. ¡°I ain¡¯t religious. Most of that stuff is like a giant story to me. And we got other things to worry bout right now than me. Stop lookin at me like that.¡±


    The sheer shock on her face makes me instantly regret those words. ¡°Just a story? Asaio, Purity is the reason why we keep living¡ªto serve our Suns. And even if it is all just a story¡ªstories have meaning, Asaio. They stem from truths.¡±


    ¡°Most stories don¡¯t have a point,¡± a quiet voice says in the back. Asher stands in the entrance of the tunnel, his face half-hidden by shadow.


    Beside him, there is a boy I ain¡¯t ever seen before with silver hair, wide eyes, and an expensively drawn arma.


    He carries a huge lump of somethin in his arms. An odd stench comes from it, one that I am far too familiar with. I know instantly what it is. I grab onto Shis as the world suddenly lurches. Her face has gone ashen in a matter of seconds.


    ¡°What is that?¡± Kim says in his high-pitched, childish voice.


    Asher¡¯s face is blank when he says, ¡°I am very, deeply sorry.¡±


    He lowers the thing, wrapped in his old cloak. Vip¡ªwho had been lyin on the ground, all but silent, suddenly lets out a strangled cry.


    ¡°No.¡± Vernon rushes forward and shoves me and Shis away. ¡°Ana, no.¡±


    ***


    There is no dramatic scream from anyone or cry of retribution, as there once was for Seran. No fires are set ablaze.


    When Asher sets the body on the floor, I stumble. Shis doesn¡¯t catch me.


    The thing bout death in a City like ours is that it¡¯s so normal I always think I¡¯m used to it, then the body count of people I love rises higher and higher and I feel so sick I can¡¯t breathe. I am not surprised. I am surprised. I am not surprised. My heart beats so fast I think it may just explode.


    We sit around the body and there ain¡¯t a sound, as if everyone is too afraid of what a single verbal cry will unleash. Just silent, deadly tears.


    Vernon and Vip crouch beside Ana¡¯s body.


    They knew her the longest. The three are the eldest, minus Shimmy and Lahla. Vip and Ana were two inseparable parts of a whole. Vernon takes Ana¡¯s head and cradles it in his lap, while Vip just shakes his head. ¡°No,¡± he says. ¡°No, that¡¯s not right¡­.¡±


    ¡°They shot her,¡± Vernon whispers. ¡°They shot her, look. They shot her. They shot her.¡±


    The thing bout death is that it is inevitable.


    My hands shouldn¡¯t shake right now. Ana had the plague. But she was only seventeen. She still had five or six cycles left in her. This wasn¡¯t the plague. This was the deliberate takin of a life.


    How horrible it is to take a life. Lives like the Lime Men we had killed early, the ones I mutilated as brutally as they have mutilated my Ana, my distant older sister Ana. I can¡¯t think of the faces I killed just as they probably didn¡¯t even see hers when they shot her. All to get to me.


    It¡¯s Uyala that makes the first sound of grief. Just a little cry, one she couldn¡¯t hold back for much longer.


    Poor little Uyala. Seht rushes to her aid and then it all comes floodin: cries, Prayers, fists slammed against the ground in anger. We don¡¯t allow ourselves to question what might have happened to the missin Crimson, Crass, or Malloo.


    I just sit there in a darkness that seems to only get darker, starin at her body. It¡¯s probably still warm. I think she was happy. I hope she was. I don¡¯t know.


    I remember her tryin, and failin, to teach me how to pick a lock I remember all those times that she and Vip would sneak round and have little competitions to see who could raid the biggest, most expensive apartment complex. I remember her teachin me bout girls and their minds cause she thought I had a crush on Isaela, and I just laughed at her, and we laughed together. I remember, when I was real, real little, only a little after I was first recruited by her and Seran and Vip and Sheral and Ze and all the other Old Garnets, that she was the one who defended me when Ze claimed I was too much of a burden to keep on. She¡¯d sing lullabies sometimes when I had nightmares. She didn¡¯t have a very great voice.


    All these little things, old memories¡ªreminders of how she lived only when she¡¯s taken her last breath.


    Some might call that poetic. I think it¡¯s horrific.


    Flynn wakes up at the commotion and sobs at the sight of her. He hardly knew her.


    I remember bein upset when she was thinkin bout pullin away, thinkin bout applyin to the Industry to find a job to better sustain herself. She knew a life of thievery and the old gamblin hub couldn¡¯t sustain us all. Yet she and Vip were always the first to volunteer themselves when one of us Garnets were in trouble.


    Memories I ain¡¯t even sure are real come back to me. Moons when I was angry at her for not lettin me do this or that, Moons when she was sick, Moons when she was sad that her late brother had to whisk her away from their dangerously plague-ridden parents.


    I stare at her body, and a dozen other dead Souls appear behind her. Souls that are forgotten. Souls that some think deserve to be forgotten because they had little impact¡ªthey ain¡¯t Pure.


    Our lives combined are not worth yours.


    That ain¡¯t true.


    Vip takes one of the muskets that lay in the middle of the room and slings it over his shoulder. He nearly barrels out the door, but Lahla grabs him by the shoulder and forces him back inside. He screams at her¡ªVip never raises his voice¡ªand she punches him in the gut. He falls into her. He don¡¯t cry. Just stares, shell-shocked.


    Someone kneels beside me.


    ¡°Should I go?¡± Asher whispers. ¡°Look for the others missing? I remember what they look like.¡±


    I don¡¯t even acknowledge him.


    I walk away, slowly, and press my face against Vernon¡¯s chest. I wrap his arms round me. Then I shut my eyes very, very tightly. None of us even saw her die.

 Flame and Parchment IIIF - Nadya

    Nadya


    Kaki wants me to come to the Tyn Wing to read with him, as we once have, but I refuse the offer.


    A bit of an odd air has come between Kaki and I, or maybe I am the only one to perceive it so. After that night in Mecraentos, I feel so much closer to him than I ever had, as though each expression he wears is an entirely new one which I must readjust my own reactions to. Yet I cannot help but be slightly weary. What is he going to say now? What is he going to say about the voice which speaks to him in a language unlearned when he looks at those blank book pages? What am I to say except, yes. I accept that what you tell me is insane, for I believe I understand you now. But what if you aren¡¯t insane? What if you are right? And the whims of my Suns are wrong? But how are they to be wrong if Kaki is right, that he hears no visions sent by them? Is it another deity which tries to call to him? Or perhaps this is the beginning of his insanity, the hell of his own making.


    I don¡¯t know.


    ***


    Lightened Roe has me spend the Moon with her. I follow her into her room within the Innokenti Wing, the class of Souls with very few fractures. Unlike Kaki¡¯s, it is lavishly decorated with a specially crafted quilt to match the beautiful beige bedding, vines braided in intricate designs all over the stone walls, glowshrooms of many different custom colors. And, of course, a rather large selection of instruments which are scattered amongst it all; the only thing uncluttered. As though Lightened Roe¡¯s musical Soul were something that she could not keep contained amongst our primitive ideas of ¡®organization.¡¯ It is nothing at all like that stale, emptiness of Kaki¡¯s chamber. It feels lived in.


    Yet, the longer I stare at the quilt, a beautiful depiction of the clouds in the sky, I think of the ones that hung on the balconies of the City. This is objectively more visually appealing but¡­. I don¡¯t know.


    She has me listen to her as she rambles about music theory, philosophy, and classism¡ªthe subjects which she will focus on for the Trials. She has me organize her notes despite the fact that I cannot read them, so I do so based on the color of the ink and the number of pages within the bindings. I think she is simply glad to have someone to speak to. Every time one of her rambles seems about to end, when the conversation just starts to run dry, she suddenly picks up a new subject with vigor. It is entirely similar to how passionate Kaki can get when he speaks of his own subjects.


    I try to keep up but struggle. When Kaki rambles about one particular subject, he usually pauses to make sure I am somewhat comprehending the information. Lightened Roe speaks as though every word is her least.


    I am a little astounded that she may be so¡­ talkative.


    There is nothing wrong with being talkative, I suppose, but it feels wrong. Almost indulgent. Too many questions and not enough answers has the tutors of the noble kids to become defensive. Kaki has pushed one too many buttons before. The only reason why Enlightened Alranath is so calm with him is because the Enlightened cannot remember anything.


    A knock comes at the door before Lightened Roe may bless me with all her opinions on classism¡ªwhich she claims to be her most thoughtful subject.


    ¡°Yes?¡± she calls.


    A gruff voice says, ¡°Lightened Roe! You are being summoned for an emergency meeting with all the Enlightened and Lightened families. It is a matter of the utmost importance in the Second Grand Ballroom. You are being asked to set aside all personal matters and arrive at once. Thank you!¡±


    An emergency meeting?


    My heart stops beating for a second. This must be about the Boneheads and those fires that were set at the docks. What if someone¡¯s said something about Kaki?


    Do not be ridiculous, I assure myself. For everyone knows that all allegations against Kaki are most assuredly false.


    Yet I wonder. What if someone had heard our conversation that night in the City? When he spoke of the Voice? The sign of the Suns? I try to think of the Voice as something other, but it is so incredibly difficult to wrap my head around without mentally accusing Kaki of being insane, or a traitor to the Suns. Or what if something just as bad as the protest held by the Boneheads has happened in the City?


    ¡°Oh, dear,¡± Lightened Roe says. ¡°I hope this is not tragic. There are so many tragedies in our world, aren¡¯t there? My thesis will be on how classism and tragedy are inherently intertwined, you see? Ah, you get it. See, you are so much better than my other servants. You listen. I might just have to steal you away from Bakiyoria for myself.¡±


    I say nothing.


    I do not think I could survive being in Lightened Roe¡¯s presence every day. She brushes her hair back with a graceful hand, revealing a lean, slender neck, and I turn away. ¡°Nadya. Help unclasp this necklace.¡±


    Of course, it is the necklace that I had recovered for her at the Feast.


    I quickly take it off her neck as she says, ¡°You know, there are many who rumor about you and Bakiyoria. I will do my best to have them keep their mouths shut, knowing how kind you are now.¡±


    ¡°Thank you,¡± I say.


    ¡°You know, perhaps there was a point to that protest. The killing of children, I mean. Did you know that our birth rate is lower than the death rate? Or that is the presumption, based on how more and more young folks die of the plague each cycle. It is quite sad. The poor Tyn do not have the minds to procreate. There have been many debates amongst us Lightened about the our old history of Public Executions¡ª¡±


    ¡°--the what¡ª¡± I try, but she continues, unhearing.


    ¡°--and I realized that perhaps the Boneheads were onto something. To glorify death, put it on a stage, forces us to realize it is real. And it is a problem. Do you understand?¡±


    ¡°The protest wasn¡¯t about that,¡± I say.


    ¡°I know. It was a complex protest about a complex problem dealt with very tastefully. But still. I wonder if this meeting is about the Boneheads. It likely is. It makes the most sense, seeing the threat which the Boneheads pose.¡±


    It feels a little as though she is stating the obvious, but I just nod and help tie the bow on the back of her arma. With that, and a quick thank you to me, raising her hand to her forehead¡ªwhich is much too formal for someone of her Purity to be doing to an Ospry girl¡ªshe rushes out of her room. She tells me that I may stay here as long as I like. The necklace remains on the bed.


    When she has gone, I play with that necklace, slipping it between my fingers. The urge comes over me to sneak it into my pocket again. I cannot tell if it is because it is beautiful, because I am a jealous, indulgent Ospry girl; or because I want an excuse to speak to her again if she does not find the heart to summon me after the meeting.


    ***


    With all of our charges busy with the Court, the other young servants and I do our rounds of laundry and meal-prepping for this week¡¯s Feast. I prefer to remain away from the Kitchens so I take on other duties¡ªwe often rotate to better suit each other¡¯s abilities, and I am a far better needle than cook. Because many of our charges are gone, we do work for their families. For me,a s Kaki has no siblings, nor any other living relatives beside Enlightened Everleigh, I help Ponnie and Chi-Chi. We gossip as we hem dresses and suits.


    ¡°That meeting is taking so long,¡± Ponnie notes, sitting to my left, her hair blown harshly by the wind.


    ¡°It was an emergency,¡± I say absent-mindedly.


    ¡°I bet they figured out who set the fires.¡±


    Chi-Chi shakes her head. ¡°Nuh-uh. You¡¯re wrong. It¡¯s not about the fires. Lightened Chrysan was talking to one of her noble friends about that red ship that was at the boarding. I heard that there were diplomats on the ship, ones that only the Court were supposed to know about. And then it burst into flames.¡±


    ¡°So it is still about the fires,¡± Ponnie says with a raise of a brow.


    ¡°Well, yeah, I suppose, but not really.¡±


    ¡°There were only merchants on the ships,¡± Ponnie continues. ¡°Missus Yarna was talking about it earlier, don¡¯t you remember?¡±


    I look up. ¡°Is that not even weirder? We¡¯ve not traded with the Damaskragans in cycles.¡±


    ¡°About time that the Damaskragands realize how horrid their Industry is. Every story I hear about that place sends chills up my spine.¡±


    ¡°Industry must be,¡± Ponnie says. ¡°We don¡¯t know.¡±


    ¡°We sort of do. Why else would they stay in hiding for so long?¡±


    My arm begins to ache again. It has been since I fell on those stairs.


    In my distraction, I suddenly prick my finger on the pointed needle and drop the collar I was sewing. The sharp points drags through the pad of my ginger, turning what would be just a prick into a long cut. Black blood seeps from within my skin. I sigh and shut my eyes for a second.


    ¡°Suns, Nadya! You hurt yourself,¡± Chi-Chi exclaims. ¡°You¡¯re bleeding.¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s not that big of a deal.¡±


    ¡°You should go wash that,¡± Ponnie says.


    ¡°Or wipe it on your dress.¡±


    ¡°No. Don¡¯t wipe it like a Tyn.¡±


    The washrooms and public latrines are found in the back of all the Wings, and are communal lest you are Lightened or Enlightened¡ªin which case a private latrine can be found in one¡¯s chamber. They are small things that consist of just a bath and a bucket of water¡ªwhich now have pipes running through them. The washrooms are separated by levels of Purity. So this washroom may only be accessed by the Ospry and lower, for the sake of keeping all the truly Pure on equal grounds.


    I am putting my hand into the water bucket when I hear small, padded footsteps come from behind.


    This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.


    ¡°Hello! Hello!¡± The voice is extremely high-pitched and young, a squawking sound.


    I turn to see a little boy with straggly orange hair and dirty clothes. He has a narrow, dirty face and is barefoot, wearing a frock similar to my own. Miss Gennadi¡¯s son, no older than six, I think. His eyes are nothing like hers. He comes barreling into my leg.


    I catch him by the shoulders. ¡°Hi!¡± I breathe. ¡°Why are you running so fast, sweetie? What¡¯s wrong?¡±


    ¡°Water,¡± he says. ¡°I think my mama needs water. Can I¡ªcan you help me carry that? Please?¡± He points at the wash bucket. He puts his small fists on the handles and tries to lift the wooden bucket itself, to no avail.


    ¡°Water? Why? For a bath?¡±


    He shakes his head and tries again, squeezing his small mouth. ¡°I think my mama¡¯s sick. Can you help me?¡±


    ¡°Sick? Of course. You don¡¯t need the water bucket, sweetie.¡±


    I¡¯ve not seen Miss Gennadi since that Moon when the two Enlighteneds had berated her on the ground, after Lightened Chrysan¡¯s play. Had the plague gotten to her? Was she starting to lash out, starting to turn, in front of her own son? Not an uncommon occurrence, but my mind is already reeling with different ways to usher this little boy out of the room so that I may properly chain his mother, and conjuring ways to teach him how to chain one¡¯s mother up.


    He tells me that his name is Vronor. Together, we run up the dozens and dozens of flights of stairs through the Ospry Wing, passing many other servants¡ªRain Keepers and such. My heart beats wildly.


    Because I have no family, I have not had to ever personally chain a man, yet I am of course informed of how to do so. Yet the thought sickens me. Images from the City flash through the back of my mind; the thought of the beautiful Miss Gennadi chained as those limp, thin bodies were is not right. She is not of the same world as they.


    ¡°Hold on. We just have to stop by my chamber first,¡± I tell the boy. ¡°What is your name again?¡±


    ¡°Vronor.¡± He taps his foot. ¡°Please. Mama is very sick. She wouldn¡¯t leave the room and I think she is going to die if we don¡¯t see her.¡±


    My eyes widen. That bad?


    It is not uncommon for the plague symptoms to be that severe out of nowhere.


    I rush past Chi-Chi and Ponnie. In my room, I gather my stash of chains from a drawer.


    Here in the Fortress, we do not chain people up as they do in the City. It is a delicate, taught business. They are not just thrown to the streets without a thought. My hands shake wildly.


    Yet as we come closer and I ask Vronor about Miss Gennadi¡¯s symptoms, he says that his mama was very pale and she wasn¡¯t screaming. There were no unusually prominent black veins. She just kissed him on the forehead and said she loved him very much, and that Missus Yarna would take care of him.


    ¡°She¡¯s going to die, she¡¯s going to die,¡± he repeats.


    That doesn¡¯t sound like the plague.


    When we reach Miss Gennadi¡¯s room, the door is locked. I try to shove it open, but I¡¯m not strong enough. I bang on the door.


    ¡°Miss Gennadi! Miss Gennadi, are you in there? Was the door locked when you were with her?¡±


    He shakes his head and begins to wail. ¡°It¡¯s okay, it¡¯s okay.¡± I pick him up and gently pat his back. ¡°She¡¯s okay. She¡¯s probably just too weak or plague-ridden to reach the door right now.


    I try to think of some way to get the door opened without a key, but I can¡¯t. Perhaps if I were Kaki or something, if I were someone smarter, I¡¯d think of a way to break it down or climb through a window or something, but my mind blanks. I just stand there dumbly, the crying child in my arms. This is likely not that grave of a situation. The plague comes and goes in waves before one goes truly insane and must be sent to the Slaughter Houses.


    I sit Vronor down and rush towards the balcony, where Chi-Chi and Ponnie remain. ¡°Girls!¡± I yell over. ¡°Call someone! Call someone from the Industry of Construction! I need help unlocking this door!¡±


    They get to it right away.


    Of course the boy that comes to the rescue is Mikial, the new Kitchen boy who both Ponnie and Walas have feelings for. I do not acknowledge the look of glee on Ponnie¡¯s face, for I can instantly understand why they have chosen Mikial besides his conventionally attractive face: the boy raises his hands. His fingernails grow to be extremely sharp, sharper than a blade, likely. He puts one of those fingers into the lock and wiggles it.


    I decide not to question Mikial¡¯s ability to pick locks.


    It is not a quick process, however. Mikial remains knelt at the door, his ear against the stone surface, as various clicks reverberate through the echoey halls.


    ¡°Can you hurry up?¡± I demand.


    Ponnie shoots me a look.


    ¡°Girls!¡±


    We all turn instantly at the sound of Missus Yarna¡¯s commanding voice. But all of our jaws drop at the same time, metaphorically or otherwise. Missus Yarna arrives running. She has taken off her flats to be barefoot and springs at a speed considerable for her plague-ridden bones. Alongside her is a man that I do not recognize.


    ¡°Why were you calling about Gennadi?¡± Missus Yarna demands. She eyes Mikial on the ground and Vronor in my arms.


    ¡°Yarna, you know¡ª¡± the man tires.


    The two are instantly at our side. ¡°Move,¡± she snaps at Mikial in a voice quite unlike her own, reaching for the door.


    ¡°Yarna,¡± the man says, quietly, as though he were trying to have us not hear but we are in too-close proximity. ¡°Yarna, Gennadi has been speaking of¡ª¡±


    ¡°Yes, I know,¡± Missus Yarna says irritably.


    I glance at Chi-Chi and Ponnie, bewildered.


    ¡°Missus, it¡¯s the plague. Miss Gennado¡ª¡± Chi-Chi starts, but Missus Yarna ignores her. She practically kicks down the door. The man hurries inside first. When I try to take a peek, Vronor in my arms, Missus Yarna blocks me with an arm at my chest.


    ¡°Girls, and Mikial, go away. Take Vronor on a walk, okay?¡±


    ¡°Why? What happened? Why are you acting so weird?¡± Ponnie says.


    ¡°Ponnie. Girls. Go.¡±


    ***


    We complete the rest of our duties, but the gossip runs strong. We whisper concernedly about this: it all comes down to the plague. Missus Yarna and Miss Gennadi are good friends; of course our patron would react in such a way. But I think we are all shocked by just how frantic Missus Yarna seemed.


    As a group, we Pray to the Suns that MIss Gennadi may be alright, that whatever path she may take may be prosperous and that of the will of Gerasim and Kirill and no other. I add a silent apology to the Suns. I apologize for not checking up on Miss Gennadi after that incident with the two noblewomen after the play. I will do my best to remedy this.


    Of course, I am in charge of taking care of Vronor. I take him into my chamber and play games with him, like Train and House, the sort of games that I remember playing with the other servants, but he is not in the mood. He is too tired from his weary weeping. He falls asleep on my bed.


    Eventually, Kaki knocks at my door. His eyes are sunken, his hair matted, but his eyes wildly bright and his fingers fidgeting at the buttons of his blouse. He throws his coat to the ground.


    We¡¯ve not had a real conversation. That weird air has not magically vanished as I had hoped.


    It is like Kaki is a walking state of turmoil, to me. For the last few Moons, I have been trying to keep my thoughts from spiraling in this way when I look at him. For turmoil is no reason to ignore one¡¯s friends.


    ¡°Nadya?¡±


    ¡°Shh.¡± I nod towards Vronor. I slip away outside, so that we are standing outside the shut door of my chamber.


    ¡°Why do you have him there?¡± Kaki asks.


    ¡°Miss Gennadi is sick,¡± I say. ¡°That¡¯s her son.¡±


    Kaki¡¯s eyes widen. ¡°No. Miss Gennadi?¡±


    The thing I dislike about people¡¯s reactions to the plague is that they act as though someone is already dead and dying once they show severe symptoms.


    Perhaps it is hypocritical of me to think so, for the dead and dying in the City warranted a reaction of me that was¡­ hysterical. But Kaki¡¯s eyes already cloud with sympathy. Miss Gennadi is a lady devoted to her Purity and to the Suns. Even if she does not ascend, she¡¯s worked hard throughout the cycles, I know it. I am sure that I know it.


    There is no sympathy to be had. Only praise and awe are worthy of such a woman.


    But, then, why does it take her to be dying for me to think this? Perhaps Lightened Roe was onto something. Perhaps we do need to be reminded of death.


    It feels hypocritical to even think.


    I recap to Kaki about Miss Gennadi. He only nods and says little else.


    ¡°The Court,¡± I say suddenly. ¡°They summoned you. Are you alright? Did they¡ª¡± I leave that last statement an open-ended question.


    ¡°Oh, Nadya,¡± he says. ¡°I have so much to tell you.¡±


    ¡°You sound like a little girl.¡±


    ¡°I think every little girl and boy in the City is about to be very excitable.¡± He takes a deep breath. ¡°I¡¯m not supposed to tell you this, but you will find out soon enough. There is a rumor that there is another Enlightened in Mecraentos City.¡±


    My mouth opens, then closes. Then opens again. ¡°What?¡±


    ¡°I know. Just rumors, but they¡¯ve made their way back here, and there¡¯s been a bunch of gang warfare in the City and all the known gangs by the Court are sending scouts throughout the City and interrupting the work of the authorities in order to find this Enlightened, and-and¡ª¡±


    ¡°How-who¡ª¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s chaos in the City right now. Right after we left. I thought the meeting would be about the Boneheads, but the Court, of course, doesn¡¯t care at all for them. There are people demanding for ¡®the truth¡¯ at Temples. A small group, but enough to make it back here, and you know how hard it is for information to make it past our walls. They¡¯re saying this Enlightened has the power to move the grounds and our plants¡ªthe last element, aside from fire.¡±


    ¡°That¡­ that¡¯s not possible,¡± I say. ¡°There can only be three¡ª¡±


    ¡°There are eye-witness accounts, apparently¡ª¡±


    ¡°We shouldn¡¯t be talking about this out here, Kaki¡ª¡±


    ¡°There can¡¯t be another Enlightened. The prophecies say there can only be three.¡±


    I cannot read his expression.


    ¡°Look, I think I just heard every counter argument to every argument to every counter argument during that meeting, Nadya. He could be real or it¡¯s all a hoax and this is a way for the gangs to manipulate the public, but that doesn¡¯t matter. The Court is going to have to do something drastic to calm the public down, to distract them.¡±


    ¡°What are you saying?¡±


    ¡°I don¡¯t know,¡± he says. ¡°I don¡¯t know what the Court will do. They just want to silence these rumors. As soon as possible. Because it is simply not true, right?¡±


    I narrow my eyes. I don¡¯t like that tone. It is a condescending, sarcastic tone that Kaki typically only reserves for the likes of bad-talking the Court, the Trials, or apparently Lightened Roe. ¡°These are just rumors, just like your rumors. You¡¯re a prophet somewhere, you¡¯re a savior somewhere. You are rumored to be an Enlightened without knowing it. They are just rumors.¡±


    Kaki lets out a breath. ¡°You¡¯re right. But that doesn¡¯t change the fact that the public thinks an Enlightened exists.¡±


    ¡°Yeah.¡±


    ¡°I don¡¯t know what the Court will do,¡± Kaki says. ¡°But this, along with the Boneheads and the fires set? It¡¯s enough to cause a stir, even though protestors and gang violence have always been an issue in Mecraentos.¡±


    I say tentatively, ¡°Are you still thinking about going back to the City? To meet with your Lucy?¡±


    Kaki wrinkles his nose. ¡°Don¡¯t say my Lucy. And yes.¡±


    ¡°Are you kidding?¡± I say. ¡°You just had a meeting about the City devolving into anarchy.¡±


    Kaki smiles. ¡°That¡¯s a bit dramatic, isn¡¯t it?¡±


    ¡°No.¡±


    ¡°Okay. Well, yes, I suppose so but¡­ You have to understand. Lucy is a renowned scholar, but she¡¯s also a hermit. I have been trying to get in contact with her for Peakings, but Jeran has always said to stay clear of her. If she is finally ready to meet with me, I don¡¯t want to lose this opportunity. You don¡¯t have to come, of course, but. I mean, you really don¡¯t, I mean that. It¡¯s up to you. I know it was pretty traumatizing last time¡ª¡±


    I take a deep breath.


    ¡°I don¡¯t want you to get hurt. Or what if someone sees you and something¡­ bad happens and someone blames it on you, like that woman on the balcony?¡±


    Kaki shrugs. ¡°Well, I wouldn¡¯t want this new Enlightened to steal my light, right? A new unusual being for the Fathers and Mothers to test their hot rods and scalding eyes? Why, I would love to keep all that attention to myself.¡±


    My mouth is dry. ¡°I¡­¡±


    ¡°That was insensitive of me,¡± Kaki says, glancing up at the ceiling, as though to speak directionally to the Suns. ¡°If this Enlightened boy is real, he¡¯s young. I would rather scathing eyes and rumors over living in that City. I leave tomorrow night, same as we did before the protest. It¡¯s up to you, Nadya.¡±


    ***

 Flame and Parchment IIIS - Nadya

    NADYA


    I sit in front of the Purity Checker, whose body and face is covered by the pale blue drapes.


    It is the same opening which I always get:


    ¡°Dear Nadya,¡± the Checker says, ¡°it appears your fractures have gotten worse. You are not here under the advisement of your patron, Missus Yarna, are you?¡±


    ¡°No,¡± I answer.


    ¡°Nadya, if you cannot find a way to abide your own wants and surrender yourself completely to the Suns, you shall never be Pure,¡± the Checker says.


    ¡°I know,¡± I say.


    ¡°What has happened, dear Nadya?¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s not that I have done anything,¡± I answer. ¡°It is that¡­ I seek your guidance. I seek the Suns¡¯ guidance. I seek your guidance before I go to the Temples, for I am sure the Mothers and Fathers would condemn me if I were to speak to them about this first. Your eyes, or your lackthereof, may be less judgemental. I hope. But if that judgment is wrong and I should go straight to the Mothers and Fathers, then I may leave. Just tell me to do so and I will.¡±


    ¡°No,¡± the Checker says, utterly skill and emotionless. ¡°Remain as you are. What is it you would like to say?¡±


    ¡°It is a hypothetical scenario.¡±


    ¡°Hypotheticals are dangerous if they are fantasies.¡±


    ¡°No, it¡¯s¡­ it¡¯s just a thought experiment.¡±


    ¡°Dear Nadya.¡±


    I take a breath. ¡°Okay. Let¡¯s say that my friend is claiming to hear an ancient voice which reveals to them information unfounded within our libraries. Would this be a sign of the Suns? Or may this be a trial, a test of deception?¡±


    The Checker remains silent for a moment. The other Checkers and the people whom they console do not react to me, but I know they have heard. It is almost taboo to listen to the confessions and Purity Checkings of another. But, because of the small space within the cottage, it is also inevitable.


    I try not to squirm. The Checker is taking much too long to respond.


    ¡°Dear Nadya. There is no such thing as ¡®ancient voices.¡¯ What your friend is hearing is no voice at all, unless they claim to be a false prophet of the Suns. The Suns have no chosen children except the Enlighteneds. If your friend believes themself to be Enlightened, they must be Checked immediately. If not, this is false information which they spread to you. Your mind should be less gullible.¡±


    ¡°No, he¡ªthey are no false prophet,¡± I say. ¡°I know that as much. And it is just a thought experiment. But is there no way for the Suns to contact us aside from our eventual ascension into Enlightenedhood? There are no other alternative routes? At all?¡±


    ¡°Your friend is spreading false information. There are no ¡®just thought experiments¡¯ which do not partially derive themselves from truth. I highly recommend, if you would like to save your Soul from fracturing any further, to get this hypothetical friend to Pray a Prayer of Redemption most committedly. A fast may be induced of this friend. But, most importantly, a trip to the Temples. For false prophets may be saved if they are once more reminded of the Work which they owe the Suns, whom gave them life. Do you understand? For if your friend believes themself to be more important than they are, a life of bacjidi awaits them.¡±


    With each word the Purity Checker speaks, my heart plummets.


    Bacjidi. The official word for ¡®Mind Hell.¡¯


    ¡°Thank you,¡± I whisper.


    ¡°I Pray for you, dear Nadya. I Pray most wholeheartedly.¡±


    One never wants a Purity Checker to Pray for them¡ªthat implies that my Prayers have not been doing enough on their own. Tears prick my eyes and I step out of the cottage.


    ***


    I find I cannot face the usual bustling busy courtyard. It feels as though each person will have heard the Purity Checker¡¯s monotonous drone of my failures and my hypothetical. It feels as though the knot in my stomach can be seen through my frock and through my skin, a freakish display for all to gaze. So I walk through the back of the Fortress. In doing so, I pass the Slaughter Houses.


    I often try to avoid the Slaughter Houses when I make my way through the Fortress. They look as though they were built in a haste¡ªjust giant cubes of eviscerated stone in four symmetrical formations. There are no decorative bricks or roofings, as is similar within the rest of the Fortress. There are no windows. The Slaughter Houses are a burden which contain no signs of life within them. They are silent buildings. I never see anyone go in or out. I know that the Butchers and Bloodmixers must come and go to distribute rations of meat, bone, and drink for the Kitchens. But they are always unseen.


    The Slaughter Houses are huge. In them could probably contain the bodies of many of those plague-ridden chained up Souls that lay burdened on the streets of Mecraentos.


    I speed up my pace, as I would usually do, but then I pause.


    Standing just a few legs away are three Lighteneds. Lightened Roe, Lightened Chrysan, and Lightened Danver. With them are two men. At first, I do not recognize them. But then I see the black uniforms and the stains on their cloaks. These men are Butchers.


    I turn my head downwards. I do not want Enlightened Roe to see me so shamefully, when I¡¯ve just been talked down to by a Checker. At that moment, Lightened Chrysan and Lightened Danver step into the Slaughter House.


    ¡°Nadya!¡± Lightened Roe says.


    I curtsy and raise a palm to my head, keeping my eyes¡ªwhich I am sure are slightly red¡ªfacing the ground. ¡°Lightened. What are you doing at the Slaughter Houses? Is that not¡­ ill-fitting for you? I thought you were going to continue to revise your Thesis.¡±


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    ¡°I only went to accompany Chrysan and Danver,¡± she answers with an elegant smile. ¡°They both realized that most of the other Lighteneds our age that are Court-bound do not have an interest nor much research regarding the Industry of Butchers. If we are the next generation to fill the Court, someone must oversee that our Houses are productive.¡±


    ¡°I see.¡±


    She looks back at the Slaughter House with an almost wistful air. The Sunlight illuminates her face just so. ¡°Honestly, it is admirable, considering how¡­ ill the Slaughter Houses must seem. You must stomach hard truths to be good for your people, right? Chrysan and Danver are good. They really do care about Mecraentos.¡±


    The shame in my stomach only churns faster. ¡°Yes, Lightened. You¡¯re right.¡±


    Here are Kaki¡¯s peers, his fellow Lighteneds.


    Kaki wants me to go back to the City with him, to meet Lucy. A failed scholar.


    It made so much sense that first night in the City. When I touched his arm. An electric, horrible, indulgent touch. Of course he should spend the time he has researching a lost history. Of course that makes sense.


    Yet his reasonings as to why slip away from me with each confusing second.


    Here are his peers, his fellow Lighteneds. They are lowering themselves down to the status of a Butcher to better understand their Mecraentos and her complex workings. They are putting themselves in positions which will give them knowledge to better understand their people when they are inevitably given power. Kaki knows he will be given those same powers, maybe even more so.


    These Lighteneds do not waste their time talking to illegal booksellers and fired scholars from the Industry of Scholars in a broken down City, a City which holds no place for such Pure Souls. They do not waste their time speaking of ancient Shenai peoples, of an ancient Voice in their heads. They are working to better society.


    Kaki is the smartest person I know. I love him. So how can someone so smart not see that the best application of his smartness is to change society now? Why spend so much time dwelling on the past?


    It didn¡¯t occur to me, that night in the City, that Kaki could have been lying. That he could have been deceitful. Kaki would never lie. Or, if he would, he would never lie to me. So this Voice he hears when he sees the blank pages must be real. Or perhaps it is a matter of perception.


    Kaki has dealt with his Purity yet lack of Enlightenedhood his entire life.


    What if this is simply a coping mechanism? A desperate last attempt to prove there truly is a reason for his oddities? Something truly special about him? One last chance to prove himself as too worthy to be a simple Industry or Court member? Is this a matter of spite to him, for he hates the Industries and Courts so? Is this just an excuse to keep away from the Trials? Perhaps not an excuse in that he is lying to me. Kaki wouldn¡¯t do that. When I had the flyers for the Fyi Festival, I could not lie to him. I highly doubt he could do so with me.


    But what if he has convinced himself?


    His perception does not match reality, yet it is still a viable truth. Is that all this is?


    Or maybe it is none of this and he really should have the chance to explore topics which he finds interesting before he is bogged down by politics. But who, truly, ever has that luxury? I am sure that Lightened Chrysan and Lightened Danver have their own interests that must be put aside in order to carve out time to speak with Butchers and Bloodmixers. Does Lightened Roe not wish, sometimes, that she could have been raised just a class lower? Perhaps, if she had more hours to dedicate to her music, she would be the greatest pipe player, the greatest composer, that we have seen in cycles. So why should Kaki get a luxury which these other young nobles do not?


    What if I had been raised by Missus Yarna to say, ¡®You can explore whatever you want, your duties aside.¡¯ What if I decided I wanted to pursue an interest in, I don¡¯t know, artistry? I would not be such a good friend to Kaki, I think.


    ¡°Nadya?¡± Lightened Roe says. ¡°Are you alright?¡±


    ¡°Yes,¡± I say. ¡°I¡¯m sorry, but I have to find Lightened Bakiyoria.¡±


    ***


    I step into Kaki¡¯s chamber after a quick knock. No one ever comes to visit but me and occasional messengers who call in the name of Enlightened Everleigh. He has not changed into nightly attire, indicating that he still plans on sneaking into the City when the Moons rise.


    His face brightens when sees me. ¡°Nadya! I was actually about to come get you.¡±


    I frown. ¡°You were?¡±


    ¡°Yes. Wait. Stay there. Don¡¯t walk any closer.¡±


    ¡°What?¡±


    I glance at the bag on his bag. It is packed. In it, I see his illegally founded, wordless books peaking gout.


    ¡°Don¡¯t worry,¡± he says, his hands behind his back. ¡°I wasn¡¯t going to ask you to come with me one last time. I actually have a gift for you.¡±


    ¡°Excuse me?¡±


    In a slow and extremely dramatic fashion, Kaki brings his arms forward. In his hands, he clutches a ball of skin. When he undoes it, I realize that it is a dress. A simple thing, with modest sleeves and a modest skirt and not much shape to it, but I dress with more style than any frock I¡¯ve ever owned. The patterns from Jeran. But there¡¯s no way. Kaki couldn¡¯t have¡ª


    ¡°You¡­ how¡ª¡± I say. ¡°You sewed that in just a Moon?¡±


    ¡°I couldn¡¯t sleep the night we got back from Mecraentos City,¡± Kaki says sheepishly. ¡°Or after that Court summoning. So I stayed up and made this. It¡¯s actually not great. The seams are about to all come apart. I just wanted to have something to show you because you¡¯re better at sewing than me and I figured if it were a gift, you would actually keep it and fix it up better than I could ever dream of. The patterns from Jeran were surprisingly simple to follow.¡±


    My mouth is dry.


    ¡°Kaki. I don¡¯t know what to say.¡±


    ¡°Here. Take it. Tell me what you think.¡±


    I hug the dress tightly against my chest. It has horrendous, juvenile stitchings. The body is unproportional and the hem of the skirt is uneven. The sleeves are of two different lengths. It seems that this is one disciple which Kaki has not mastered in an obscenely short amount of time. Yet, despite all its imperfections, it feels as though it were sewn with gold.


    ¡°It¡¯s perfect,¡± I find myself whispering.


    He grins, running a hand through his long, greasy hair. ¡°Good. I was nervous. You can fix it up however you like. But if Missus Yarna asks, you can say it¡¯s from me and you wouldn¡¯t be lying.¡±


    I stare at the dress. I don¡¯t even know if this will fit me. He didn¡¯t take any of my measurements. Yet I hug it tighter to my chest.


    Right then, I decide to tell Kaki about my trip to the Checkers and my reservations about his research. His everything.


    He nods with each word thoughtfully. The only time his brows furrow is when I tell him the Checker claimed he was spreading false information.


    ¡°I¡¯m not lying to you, Nadya. I couldn¡¯t lie to you.¡±


    ¡°I know.¡±


    ¡°So do you really think I am?¡±


    ¡°No.¡±


    ¡°Well, good.¡± He sits down on his cot. ¡°I can¡¯t make you not worry, Nadya. I can¡¯t say anything that won¡¯t cause you to think and overthink and rethink the meaning of it. You don¡¯t have to come with me, but it¡¯s¡­ I¡¯ll say that it is lonely, Nadya. I wish just I were not the only person in all of Mecraentos that knows how to read.¡±


    I just nod.


    ¡°I¡¯ll come with you tonight,¡± I say.


    ¡°You really don¡¯t have to.¡±


    ¡°I want to,¡± I say. ¡°But you have to promise me something. You have to begin preparing for your life after this. You might have to get married. Learn about the Cratic. Learn about the twins. Meet people in the Industry. Just¡­ give me some reassurance that you¡¯ll be okay when you¡¯re older and all eyes look to you. Okay?¡±


    He smiles, but it does not quite reach his eyes. He still tries, though. ¡°I can do that for you, Nadya. Easily.¡±

 Flame and Parchment IV - Asaio

    ASAIO


    We don¡¯t let Yaselle even entertain the idea of sendin Ana to a Slaughter House.


    The Slaughter Houses are supposed to compensate you with a piece of your loved one¡¯s flesh as a way to celebrate them in their physical form.


    That never happens. You just wait in long, long lines for the chance of a bite. And, even then, I have a feelin the flesh the Butchers and Bloodmixers hand out on those stone platters are some random Soul¡¯s. But we get rid of the dead for free, they say. It Purifies the Soul, to lay the dead to rest in a way that¡¯s nodded by the Suns. Everyone gets a proper goodbye. Even if they ain¡¯t loved. They lie.


    I don¡¯t want to look at the body. I can¡¯t.


    I try to seek out the leaves and the whisperin branches, searchin for some otherness that¡¯ll fill the slowly tearin hole in the middle of my chest. There¡¯s no way that Ana¡¯s dead. No way I¡¯ve outlived another Garnet.


    It¡¯s as though the trees are tryin to respond to me, tryin to offer me solace. I remember, while fightin the Lime Men, they spoke to me, speakin of poision, but I think that might have been the trick of the mind. My head¡¯s poundin so much that I ain¡¯t sure what¡¯s the trick of the mind and what ain¡¯t. I yearn for whatever voice I heard though. I need a distraction.


    ¡°Vip,¡± I hear Lahla say. ¡°Vip, I¡ª¡±


    ¡°Don¡¯t¡ªno one speak to me. Fuck.¡±


    ***


    Ana was never religious. She didn¡¯t care to have her Soul looked after by the Mothers and Fathers of the Temples and then repurposed for the good of the people in the Slaughter Houses. She wanted to be burned to a crisp, turned into a beautiful damned pile of ash.


    Yaselle comes in and says somethin bout our hidin here bein dangerous. She says somethin bout our numbers and our group, but I don¡¯t really hear her. I remember her sayin that she¡¯s gonna move us out of this place in one or two Moons, get us into a safe and secure location in the Mini City. I¡¯ll begin work with her in those one or two Moons, too. I notice vaguely that this Yaselle is different than the last one I spoke to . She got a longer face and narrower eyes. Even the green shroomlight hits her face differently.


    She promises us arson-flower for Ana. We want to burn her as soon as possible, and not in the slums.


    At some point, she takes the silver-haired boy with her, the one Asher saved. Heish. Vernon snaps at her, demandin that we keep ¡®the boy¡¯--cause he don¡¯t know Heish¡¯s name. She says somethin bout this bein the deal, but I¡¯m already havin a hard time rememberin the deal. I thought it was that we give her Heish once she proved I would be safe in her hands.


    I want to scream at the thought. My life ain¡¯t worth no more than that white haired boy¡¯s.


    Maybe losin Ana was punishment for not puttin up a fight right when that deal was made.


    I grab onto the boy¡¯s wrist when she takes him, sayin nothin.


    ¡°Asaio,¡± Yaselle warns, and I let go. My tongue is paralyzed.


    If Death is a god, a deity like the Suns, She is random at best, but not meaningless. Never meaningless, I think, as I stare at Ana¡¯s rottin body.


    Yaselle brings us all food and tends to our wounds, but nothin heals.


    ***


    Flynn and Ellie-Darlin have fallen asleep. The layout of our warehouse is so ingrained in our minds that everyone takes the same corners they had back home. The home that¡¯s gone, burned away. The two of em breath against my leg while I run a hand through young Uyala¡¯s hair, her head in Seht¡¯s lap. A few of the shroomlamps in this tunnel have been blown out. Uyala only sleeps with us cause she loves Seht so much. Otherwise, I¡¯m sure she¡¯d rather sleep with Kim, who¡¯s so much closer to her age. Only ragged breathin can be heard, labored breathin¡ªnothin like the panicked heaves that were uttered just an hour earlier.


    Seht stares, doin that thing where he¡¯s still as a statue. Unreadable.


    ¡°I feel bad for Vip,¡± he says.


    I just nod. Uyala lets out a little groan. ¡°You should really go to sleep, brightness,¡± Seht tells her. She shakes her head and buries her face into Seht¡¯s chest.


    She never really knew Ana, but we all looked up to her, especially the other girls.


    ¡°I want to die,¡± Uyala whispers.


    It¡¯s startlin to hear that from such a sweet, high-pitched, innocently young voice.


    And it resurfaces an old memory of my own, from when I was younger and when Sherald died and I wasn¡¯t copin very well, but I push that thought aside at the threat of the tears prickin. I remain silent for a few seconds, tryin to think of a proper way to console someone that really shouldn¡¯t have such an innate understandin of death.


    The only thing I can think is, If you all up and die, I¡¯ll be left alone. I bite my lip. Hard.


    Enlightened.


    ¡°You don¡¯t want that.¡± It¡¯s so soft I ain¡¯t sure if I said it or thought it.


    She just shakes her head against Seht, who leans to kiss her on the forehead.


    ¡°Uyala, you don¡¯t want that,¡± I repeat.


    ¡°Nah, I think we all do, a little bit,¡± Seht says. ¡°It isn¡¯t worth it, though. It¡¯s stupid, plain and simple. You aren¡¯t stupid, are you, Uyala?¡±


    Despite the blankness in his expression, he crushes a stone to bits with his enhanced strength in the hand that Uyala can¡¯t see.


    ***


    Shis-Aspinova Prays in the back of the tunnel-room, clickin her tongue to an unheard rhythm. She¡¯s been Prayin for a long time. She tried to get me to Pray with her, but I refused, and the hurt in her eyes was somethin I ain¡¯t ever seen of her before. I didn¡¯t care. I just want to sleep, but I can¡¯t. I don¡¯t want to close my eyes. Seht and Uyala are curled up together, besides Ellie-Darlin and Nep and Pen. I stare at their bodies. I feel their warmth breath on my hands. I keep those hands over their noses, picturin how it will feel when their breaths go cold without warnin.


    Whispers in my ears. Whispers of leaves from outside the tunnel. I¡¯ve been stretchin out my consciousness for so long, a buzzin has developed in my ears. I¡¯m strainin myself, I know it. It might be the only way I¡¯m gonna be able to fall asleep at this point. It feels like my mind is bein pulled in eight different directions.


    It won¡¯t work. The moment I don¡¯t want to pass out, I can¡¯t. I let go of my hold on the branches and leaves, and a thick wave of exhaustion hits me, like someone¡¯s just slapped me over the head. I suck in a sharp breath.


    Flynn is in a different corner, with his bag of runes. He ain¡¯t from round here, and he ain¡¯t Yevanian, so he don¡¯t Pray like most people in Mecraentos. I don¡¯t know what those runes do, but he lays them on the ground and kneels before them.


    Shis and Flynn sit with as much distance between em as possible.


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    I stand up and walk to Shis. ¡°Shis,¡± I say, ¡°how long do Enlighteneds live for?¡±


    She don¡¯t respond to me till she finishes her Prayer.


    She stares at me for a moment before respondin, like she can¡¯t believe she¡¯s even lookin at me.


    ¡°Enlightened Everleigh is the eldest, and she¡¯s yet to die, Enlightened,¡± she answers.


    I knew that answer already.


    ¡°Really. Please don¡¯t call me Enlightened,¡± I say, much softer than I¡¯d meant to.


    Without another word, I stand up and lay down besides my sleepin friends. We don¡¯t pry, us Garnets, but I know that I¡¯ve probably seen more death than any of em. In all its forms. I reach my consciousness out as far as it can stretch, to as many trees and brush-bundles and leaves as possible. The mere effort knocks me out. I can make out the fragment of distant words, but I no longer want to hear them. I don¡¯t want to know if they are real or not. If they are, if I really am a chosen one of the Suns, then it ain¡¯t as Asher says. Nothin just is. Black spots appear and my head hits the ground, hard.


    ***


    ¡°Don¡¯t be stupid, Vernon. Don¡¯t you dare walk out¡ª¡±


    Vip grabs Vernon by the shoulder and forces him to slow before he can reach the widely open exit of the room we¡¯re kept in.


    ¡°I¡¯m gonna find them,¡± Vernon hisses. He has one of the muskets slung over his shoulder. Just like that, he extends the length of his arm so he keeps walkin even though Vip¡¯s got a hold on him. I gasp when Vip twists Vernon¡¯s arm and throws him to the ground, effectively breakin the damn thing.


    Shimmy and Lahla rush to pull Vip off Vernon as he yells obscenities. From the hallway, I hear Yaselle¡¯s Bugs tramplin through to deal with us.


    ¡°You broke my arm! You broke my damn arm!¡±


    ¡°You¡¯ll end up just as dead as Ana if you go,¡± Vip snaps as Lahla grabs her lover by the collar and whispers furiously into his ear. Her eyes are red and puffy. I ain¡¯t ever seen Lahla wear any emotion besides utter blankness and the occasional smirk for Vernon.


    Mustletop¡¯s yellin somethin and then Genavieve is involved, somehow, because of somethin real smart that Shimmy said to Mustletop and then they¡¯re all yellin over Vip and Vernon and then Vip and Vernon are yellin again. I just remain in my corner, one hand over my right ear, one hand holdin Ellie-Darlin¡¯s. Little Kim cries and tells Uyala they should run away together. Seht goes into that way that he always does: utterly lifeless. Starin. Like he¡¯s a statue rather than a person.


    Flynn plays with his bag of runes. I realize I must have been out for less than an hour.


    Flynn ain¡¯t said a single word since Ana¡¯s passin. When he has an episode, like the one I think happened when I knocked out the first time, sometimes he won¡¯t speak for Moons.


    For some reason, I focus on his long, dexterous fingers and those round stones. The runes are painted with blood in symbols I don¡¯t understand. It is as though no words utter matter. No sounds matter except for the sound of those stones clickin together. Click. Click. Click. A low, reverberatin click. Click. Click.


    Vernon says, his voice hoarse, ¡°I¡¯ve got to find them, I¡¯ve got to. Ana would do the same for me.¡±


    Just then, Asher appears in the entrance, Yaselle behind him. HIs dark black eyes are once more expressionless.


    It dawns upon me just how peculiar Asher¡¯s appearance is. His pale skin. The dark eyes and the bright hair, all beneath a pitch black cloak. It is as though he ain¡¯t a real person but an omen.


    A third body appears, but I can¡¯t see it over all the heads.


    ¡°Shut up! Shut up!¡± Shimmy yells at the already yellin and crazy-eyed garnets. ¡°Suns. Oh, Suns!¡±


    I stand up. That third body is a face so beaten and bruised it¡¯s unrecognizable, except for the singular eye. The other, empty in its socket. Crimson, with dirt all over his face, dried blood on his shoulders, and his single eye red and bloodshot. There is no relief upon seein him. He drops a leather-skin bag to the ground.


    ***


    Crass died at the hands of the Five Pitters, strangled then burned for information. She tried to swim out to the docks and failed. Malloo died in a struggle against the lickers, or that¡¯s what Asher assumed happened. He couldn¡¯t get to the lickers, but he hunted down the young Pitters that tortured Crass and cut off their heads.


    It was not Crass or Malloo¡¯s body in the bag, but the two heads that Asher obtained, and a small flask with their blood.


    ¡°If you believe that drinking the blood of your enemies is retribution,¡± he says. Only Vernon drinks.


    ***


    It¡¯s dangerous, but Yaselle lets us burn Ana¡¯s body in an extremely large pit that she had her Bugs carve out, just for us, to better keep the smoke from alertin the lickers or any gangs in the City. The pit is blocked by a huge plague-ridden tree that also covers much of the tunnel, one that Vernon and Seht and Ana and I clambored out of, thinkin that we had outsmarted Yaselle.


    For Crass and Malloo, we burn a necklace that Lahla had been given from Crass and a paintin that Flynn had done for Malloo¡ªone that she never let him destroy. It is one of very few paintins he will never destroy, not even when it burns.


    We can¡¯t burn them at night, as Ana would have liked, beneath the sweetness of the Moons. Nighttime is when the gangs are most active and the authorities make their ¡®necessary arrests¡¯ and ¡®rounds¡¯ for the Slaughter Houses. No one wants to be doin business like that with the Suns watchin.


    So the Suns judge us. Beneath a blood-red sky. We ignore the Bugs that have formed a perimeter around us. Dozens of em.


    The others have me whisper to the trees round us and wrap her in a tight cocoon, layin her to the ground. I¡¯m glad cause it gives me somethin to concentrate on. It drains me. The trees whisper angrily to me, but not in the way they did when I killed the Lime Men. No words like, locotatuira are poisonous when consumed. But it¡¯s hard to get the branches to comply. It¡¯s like, right when I need em the most, our connection is waverin and they¡¯re just some hollow extension of me that don¡¯t work right, like a sleepin arm with its pins and needles. At some point, I completely stop to let out a guttural cry, then pick up Ana¡¯s cocoon again.


    We each take our turn speakin to our dead. I am first, upon the insistence of a few of the Garnets that the Enlightened must be first.


    I don¡¯t even remember what I say, it is so little and so meaningless. Nothin I can give has my Soul in it. I hope Ana can forgive me for that.


    Shis and Ellie-Darlin and Seht all offer Prayers. The others memories. Vernon and Lahla, I know, offer long words. But I can hardly listen to those either. Flynn a prayer of his own type.


    But it is Vip who lights Ana, ignitin the arson-flower.


    ¡°Ananiva,¡± he starts. ¡°You are the Purest thing I have ever known in this world. You are my true Soulmate. There is so much I could say, but I will wait for-for¡ª¡±


    He turns away and covers his mouth. After a few moments, he leans down to whisper what he wanted to say instead to the cocoon. He gives a sincere goodbye to Malloo and Crass, but I know those words are static and forced.


    I can¡¯t watch this again, but I feel oddly hardened to it all. Of course this Moon would come. It finally has. Maybe it¡¯s even relievin. More black spots in my vision.


    When she burns, she is the most gorgeous bouquet of scaldin-hot flame I have ever seen.


    ***


    I sit across Yaselle at a stone table. We are in a different room slightly further into the tunnel. She rambles a bit to me bout the history of this tunnel or somethin, but it all goes in one ear and out the other. In front of me is the stone plate, the Code of Conduct, that now binds me to her. Me, in exchange for her completely providin for the Garnets. That Vernon and Ana signed.


    When Vernon and Ana signed, Yaselle taught them signatures are like an art. They are unique to each person, drawn in the black plague-ridden blood from one¡¯s fingertip, so as to be unique in two different aspects. I realize that Ana¡¯s signature on that stone tablet is the last physical remainin part of her. It is the last thing she will have left a permanent mark on.


    I can¡¯t look at it.


    ¡°Enlightened,¡± she says. ¡°I am truly sorry.¡±


    ¡°They died because of me.¡±


    Crass was tortured. Because of me. Her body may never be found. Neither will Malloo¡¯s.


    ¡°No, Enlightened Asaio. They died because your friends were too idealistic and delusional to accept my deal and protection,¡± she says. ¡°It is easy to risk everything for an idea, Asaio. We all like to imagine we are the exception to the hierarchy of power, don¡¯t we, Enlightened? When we really have something to fight for? Asaio?¡± she reaches out and squeezes my hand. ¡°No. Real change takes time and effort and training. Asaio, what is it you want? I know that, soon, you will be under my jurisdiction completely, but I want to know that your needs are met.¡±


    Somewhere in the back of my mind, I wonder how this stone plate can keep me under her jurisdiction.


    There¡¯s somethin in her eyes. A softness to em.


    ¡°I don¡¯t know,¡± I answer. ¡°I don¡¯t want nothin right now. We¡­ we¡¯re goin to be safe with you watchin over us, right?¡±


    ¡°Right, Enlightened. When you are with me, no harm can come to you. I will be your sanction. I promise.¡±


    ¡°Okay.¡±


    ¡°Do you think you are ready to start working with me tomorrow?¡±


    ¡°Yeah.¡±


    ¡°Thank you, Asaio. You are strong.¡±


    I don''t know why that does it. The tears begin to flow without me even feelin em. My throat tightens and my hands shake. I ain¡¯t surrounded by any of my Garnets. Just a strange woman with a veil and white gloves. I try to cover my mouth, to prevent any sound from comin out, but I fail. I cry, for the first time since hearin of Ana¡¯s death, my heart beatin so fast it physically hurts and each breath I take feels like I¡¯m swallowin acid.


    Yaselle, her mouth slightly open in alarm, gets out of her seat and wraps her arms around me. She says nothin and I think I mutter incoherently and she just nods. She lets me bury her head into her shoulder.

 Flame and Parchment VF - Nadya

    NADYA


    Sneaking out of the Fortress is harder than anticipated because of the added security measures in place. Where there are typically only a few dozen Gate Keepers, there are now over thirty at the front entrance alone. We look out at the guards in place from the balcony in front of Kaki¡¯s chamber.


    Over his shoulder, Kaki has two bags. One for the books he obtained from Jeran, and one for the stone knives we obtained from the Kitchens. I made quite a big deal of this. He said I was being dramatic, but I insisted that we need some form of protection. What of the Boneheads? What of the fires, the gangs with their guns and all their horrid violence? Especially as we are leaving under the scrutiny of the Moons and not the protection of the Suns.


    It may be silly, for I know a stone knife will do nothing if we are to get into trouble. And the possibility of us getting into trouble makes my stomach churn. But Kaki has such a hard, determined look to him that I can¡¯t back out now. He¡¯s even washed his hair and tied it back, so as to better present himself as respectable to this ¡®Lucy.¡¯


    ¡°How are we to leave if the Gates are being patrolled?¡± I say.


    ¡°I never go out of the Gates,¡± he says with a small smile.


    ¡°What do you mean?¡±


    ¡°There¡¯s an entrance that most people don¡¯t know about. On the Northside of the Fortress.¡±


    ¡°What?¡±


    ¡°On the Northside.¡±


    The Northside is on the opposite side of the Gates. What would a second entrance to the Fortress be necessary for, when the Gates have been perfected? With our dozens of Gatekeepers, who is patrolling this second entrance?


    ¡°What if we¡¯re caught?¡±


    ¡°We won¡¯t.¡±


    ¡°There are dozens of Souls out at night and¡ª¡±


    ¡°Well then we can blame it on a romantic walk through the courtyard,¡± he says, without a hint of sarcasm.


    ¡°Excuse me?¡±


    He chuckles and nudges my shoulder. I take a step farther from him. ¡°You don¡¯t have to look so disgusted. I would make a wonderful, thoughtful, charismatic partner.¡±


    ¡°Sure.¡±


    ¡°You didn¡¯t disagree.¡±


    ¡°I would never want you as my lover, Kaki.¡±


    ¡°You¡¯re so sweet, you know? Like the sweet paste stews. You¡¯re just like that. Sappy and warm. All the time. I mean, just look at that big smile¡ª¡±


    ¡°Shut up.¡±


    We make our way down the stairs of the Gerasim Wing, which is always empty for none are fractureless like Kaki. In our black cloaks, I feel a bit like a hero in one of those romantic books Kaki read to me, when we were much younger. There are few romantic novels¡ªor perhaps there are more and I do not know of them for they do not interest Kaki¡ªyet they are captive, indulgent representations of imagination.


    Imagination is a hard thing. It does nothing to better society, lest you are Pure enough to have the capabilities to turn imagination into a physical vessel. So imagination is not exactly looked down upon, but it is quite clearly useless. Yet romantic novels capture Soul and beauty perfectly in a physical vessel which contributes nothing to society. It is an enigma, a word that Kaki was obsessed with when he first heard it.


    So I turn my mind away from the romantics.


    The Gerasim Wing reminds me a bit of the Tyn Wing, in its silence, its numbered doors with their dusty metal hinges. There is never the constant pitter-patter of footsteps. Every breath feels as though it is being projected because of the ways the halls turn inward to create an echoed environment. As Gerasim was blind in His Physical life, there are no paintings nor much decor. What is appreciated are the abundance of textures carved into the stone walls.


    When we are at the base of the Wing, we do not turn left to reach the Courtyard, as is typical. Instead, we walk around the outer perimeter, staying close to the stone walls. There are few Souls out at this time, and none bat an eye at our hooded figures.


    It takes me a second to realize which direction we are headed: the Slaughter Houses.


    ¡°Why¡­?¡± I begin.


    Kaki speeds up his pace. ¡°Don¡¯t you ever wonder why we never see bodies being brought into the Fortress?¡±


    ¡°They don¡¯t come from the City. They¡¯re our dead.¡±


    ¡°Well, ¡®our¡¯ includes the City, doesn¡¯t it? And think about. You work in the Kitchens. I mean, the amount of people that die of the plague here doesn¡¯t equate into how much food is cooked for the hundreds of Souls that have to be fed, right?¡±


    I¡¯ve never thought about that. ¡°I suppose.¡±


    ¡°So some come from the City. Or, at least, somewhere else, but probably the City.¡± Kaki walks us around the depressing stone cubes, to the sliver of space between the Houses and the Fortress walls. There are no lights and it seems quite like the alleys we¡¯d run through in the City. It is such a small, desolate space, one which screams to be avoided at all costs. Yet Kaki enters this field of darkness without hesitation. And so I follow, tugging at the edge of my frock so much the stitching begins to fray.


    There is a metal grate, just a few legs into the passage. It is larger than I expected, about three times the size of a door and three times its width.


    It smells absolutely horrendous. Of course, there is always a bit of odor to be expected when one is in the vicinity of the Slaughter Houses, but it reeks in this place. Not as badly of the City, but I still bring the cloak up to my nose.


    His speaking calms me a bit. ¡°The Bloodmixers and Butchers come through the back of the Fortress, with shipments of bodies from the City through here. Sometimes they bring carts full of them.¡±


    ¡°That¡¯s why we never see them.¡±


    ¡°Yes, exactly.¡±


    ¡°I can¡¯t believe I didn¡¯t know about this,¡± I say softly.


    Kaki turns to me. I cannot see his face in the darkness as he fiddles with the gate. It seems to not have been locked¡ªI suppose it doesn¡¯t have to, if no one but the Bloodmixers and Butchers know it exists. ¡°It gets you wondering, right? How much we really don¡¯t know, how much is kept from us. About anything. Ah, here we go. Come on. We want to be back here before Innokenti rises.¡±


    If you find this story on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen. Please report the infringement.


    ***


    I expect the City to be in a state of absolute chaos. I expect there to be hundreds of Souls running rampant from gang men with guns over their shoulders, as they had during the Boneheads¡¯ protest. I expect there to be double the amount of chained bodies to the streets. I expect there to be beggars and weeping women and fires being lit on every street corner, for those are the rumors that penetrate the Fortress. I brace myself for this.


    In a way, I¡¯m correct. It is not the thick plumes of smoke in the air or the rank odors or the long lines of thin, malnourished Souls that cast an air of destitution over the City. Those that we pass have blank faces or even smiles. Music can still be heard for legs. Despite it all, there are still drummers and singers on every street corner, besides bloody sidewalks. What causes the heavy air is the way that the people whisper to each other behind metal fences, dodging the eyes of men and women who seem to don attire which marks them as dangerous. I cannot tell what makes these men and women as dangerous. And there seem to be an extreme amount of authorities patrolling even the back streets.


    Kaki and I stick to abandoned alleys full of trash and dead bodies. Kaki tells me that he knows exactly where this ¡®Lucy¡¯ lives, but it feels as though we are traversing a maze of dirty plague-ridden wood and brick. Every step feels like a thousand.


    ¡°She doesn¡¯t live very deep into the City,¡± Kaki says. ¡°So it¡¯ll be fine. Trust me.¡±


    On the walls, there are posters with various drawings, or the remnants of such. Many have been visibly torn off the wall and torn into pieces, which were re-pasted onto the walls, along with dozens of graffiti drawings. To my horror, I notice that many of these ¡®murals¡¯ include pictures of the Enlighteneds with their heads chopped off.


    My mouth waters at the sight of every body on the ground. Most are dead, but some convulse and thrash.


    We have only been outside of the Fortress for a few moments when I grab Kaki¡¯s arm and tug him back. ¡°I can¡¯t do this.¡± I shake my head. ¡°I can¡¯t¡ª¡±


    ¡°We can go back,¡± he says. He grabs my hand and squeezes.


    These are likely the men and women and children who are carted into the Fortress through that secret back entrance, packaged up into rations, and sent to me to serve the Fortress families on silver platters.


    Just thrown into back alleys like this. As though their lives were meaningless.


    I shake my head.


    ¡°Nadya¡ª¡±


    I shake my head again.


    It is as though I feel some obligation to acknowledge these dead. To see them.  I live off of them. Kaki lives off of them. I feel no such disgust when I see the raw flesh in the Kitchen cupboards¡ªI do not know what it is about eyes that humanizes a person so, but I can¡¯t look at them. But I can¡¯t close my eyes either, for the dead penetrate the black and gray beneath my lids.


    He rips a piece of his cloak just so I can have a thicker mouth covering. I let go of his hand.


    ¡°Here, I¡¯m sorry,¡± he says. ¡°Let¡¯s get out of these alleys. The main streets are less horrific.¡±


    I shake my head again. ¡°It¡¯s fine,¡± I say, but I¡¯m not sure if he can hear me beneath the mouth coverings.


    The body in front of me is an extremely plague-ridden child, with her hands entirely black, growths coming out of the side of her head, her tongue hung out of her lifeless skull. It is dark purple in color. I fight the urge to scream or perhaps cry.


    ¡°Nadya, what are you¡ª¡± Kaki begins.


    I kneel beside the body, and I begin to click to the distant rhythms of buskers on main streets legs away. I whisper a Prayer to Kirill. While most Prayers are supposed to come from one¡¯s Soul, are supposed to be unique to the speaker, Prayers for the deceased are typically memorized; passed down from Mother to Mother, Father to Father. They are known as the Final Prayers of Redemption. They are supposed to be uttered for every Soul brought into the Slaughter Houses.


    I¡¯ve not thought about the sheer number of people it takes to feed a hundred living in the Fortress. I¡¯d always assumed that the Mothers and Fathers were simply so attentive and dedicated to their dedication to the Suns that they would get through every Soul.


    My eyes begin to burn. The Prayer is short and sweet, for I do not know the true Final Prayers of Redemption. I hope the Suns do not find my blatantly false attempt offensive.


    I cannot bring myself to touch the forehead of the dead child, but I let my hand hover, despite the overwhelming urge to run far, far away from this alley and back into the comforting walls of the Fortress.


    So, for every body that we come across in these alleys, I kneel beside them and Pray.


    It gives my mind something to focus on. A mission. A goal. The power of the Prayer keeps me from completely destroying the skirt of my frock.


    Throughout it all, Kaki says nothing, despite the fact that I know I have just cut down Kaki¡¯s time to speak with this Lucy tenfold. The rising of Innokenti, the smallest and Purest Moon, approaches rapidly.


    ¡°Despite their sins, let their lives mean to be more than just a meal.¡±


    At some point, as we have rounded a sharp corner by a bunch of teetering, decaying apartments, Kaki grabs me aggressively by the shoulder and shoves me against the wall mid-Prayer. I almost shout out, but he covers my mouth.


    Over his shoulder, I see two men walk by. The first thing I notice about them are their red necks, as though they had painted their skin with Enlightened blood. They are unusually plague-ridden. One man has claws coming out of his hands, but his arma and cloak are designed to emphasize his cursed mutation. The other has shaved his head to reveal the black spots appearing on the skin. They drag behind them a skinny boy, no more than a few cycles older than Kaki, with wide eyes and unusually pale skin. They shove the boy against a wall that is just hardly blocked from my view.


    I gasp against Kaki¡¯s hand. I see nothing, only hear the blows to the stomach. The screams of the boy. The bones being cracked against stone and wood. My eyes widen and I flinch as the boy cries out, ¡°Help me! Help me!¡±


    And then he goes silent.


    The worst part of the whole ordeal is that not a single word is exchanged between the two red-necked men.


    Kaki grabs my hand and shifts his body to fully cover me from the sight of the men. Then he gently urges me deeper into the darkness of the alley, so that we are not seen as the two men walk by.


    We hear their footsteps become lighter and lighter. Only then does Kaki let out a breath. I cannot find one in me.


    He squeezes my hand. ¡°Nadya? Are you alright?¡±


    ¡°Who¡ª¡±


    ¡°Those were Ruby men,¡± Kaki says. ¡°One of the gangs. One of the bad ones. Come on. It¡¯s dangerous, if there are any more like them waiting. Lucy lives just across from here, I remember. See that tree? How it¡¯s shaped like a heart? That¡¯s the landmark Jeran gave me.¡±


    ¡°I-the boy¡ª¡±


    ¡°I know,¡± Kaki whispers. ¡°I know.¡±


    ¡°How¡ª¡± I shake my head.


    How can Kaki have been witness to this violence for Peakings and be more interested in old books, when he has been blessed with the familial connections and Purity to obtain a seat in the Court? Where real change occurs? Once more, I think of Lightened Roe. Yet, does change occur in the heart of the Court? I don¡¯t actually know, do I?


    And what am I doing? Standing shell-shocked?


    ¡°We can¡¯t do anything about the boy, Nadya,¡± Kaki tells me. ¡°He¡¯s gone.¡±


    And so we keep moving, at a much faster pace, not stopping once for Prayer. As we walk, it begins to rain. Our cloaks offer little protection, so it is a relief when Kaki finally stops. We¡¯ve reached an apartment complex that is just as gray and dilapidated as all the others, yet there are no loitering Souls.


    ¡°This is it,¡± Kaki says.


    There is no door to knock on, just a thickly weaved sheet of black and purple plague-ridden vines hanging from an arched entrance and a flimsy wooden bar.


    ¡°Hello?¡± Kaki calls. ¡°Does a Miss Lucy live here? Lucilla of the Elms?¡±


    ¡°Who¡¯s askin?¡± a low, gritty voice comes with a strange accent, like she¡¯s saying ¡®aye-skin.¡¯


    ¡°Bakiyoria. Jeran¡¯s friend.¡±


    ¡°Shit! Shit!¡± There comes the sound of something very large and metal falling to the ground. It echoes across the dark streets. More cussing ensues, and I hear a second person cry out. Then silence falls. ¡°What do you want?¡±


    ¡°I know you enjoy your privacy,¡± Kaki says. ¡°But there¡¯s a book that I think Jeran told you I had and I figured your expertise would be¡ª¡±


    ¡°Arlan, grab the gun!¡±


    ¡°What?¡± I say, taking a step back.


    Kaki pales. ¡°Wait, I am not here to¡ª¡±


    Suddenly, a head pops out of the weaved vines. An older woman with her hair shaved off and bright yellow eyes that glance around the scene wildly. She smells very strongly of smoke.


    She takes less than half a second to assess Kaki and I before grabbing us both by the shoulders and tugging us inside.


    ***