“You’re wearing servants' clothes,” Rof said.
With him being so tight-lipped, Tif hadn’t expected the comment. She looked down at the yellow shirt and pants that were already considerably more lived in than when she had received them.
“My own was,”--probably best not to say spattered with her father’s blood--“well, they asked me to change. And I’m glad they did. These are some of the finest clothes I’ve owned. Though I still think they smell a bit strange.”
He stared at her oddly, like he thought she was making some sort of poor joke. Not wanting to look away again, Tif noticed that the rest of his face younger than the dark circles under his eyes made him seem. She probably had a year or two on him, which might make him one of the youngest people ever to become a knight.
“You don’t have servants in the Blood Plains, do you?” Rof asked, which Tif hadn’t been expecting either. He sounded like he didn’t know much about the people she was pretending to be, unlike Jer, but she gave him the safest answer she could come up with just in case.
“Not where I lived.”
He clenched his jaw and nodded, as if confirming something for himself.
“Also--”--Tif started. She was going to explain that she normally didn’t use I and all that, which she realized she had been doing ever since she made the decision to switch back to a regular way of talking with Jer. However, she’d just spent the past few minutes speaking normally to Udaru and now Rof, and neither seemed to care. Besides, if Vak-Lav was getting her away from the knights, did it even matter?
“What?” Rof asked, looking somewhat wary.
“We should probably get to the field,” Tif said instead. It was obvious that whoever Vak-Lav was sending wasn’t coming to this tent, but there should be plenty of people out there--one of whom would hopefully take her to her parents.
Rof moved to the entrance flap and gestured her over. But when she got there, he put up a finger, holding her back.
“Remember,” he said. “I can take you down from a distance, so don’t try to get away.”
Tif remembered all too well how his technique had left her laid out on the ground, completely disoriented, even with her healing. She was going to say something along those lines, but standing close to him now, Tif felt a dull pain just below her heart. She assumed her Blood ris would take care of it in a breath or two, but nothing happened: her body didn’t heat and the uncomfortable sensation continued.
Rof seemed to take her silence as confirmation and left the tent. Oddest of all, the pain left with him.
“What in the Aspect?” Tif said to Pep.
“Come on,” the young keshe called from the other side of the large flap.
Tif pushed through, joining him in the row of division leader tents. There weren’t quite as many people here as she’d assumed there would be, but Tif supposed she and Udaru had waited a while--plenty of time for candidates to accept invitations and then go where they were needed. Not that Tif thought any of those people to be an agent for the underground. Instead, she inspected the servants, who stood or passed by, checking to see if any appeared nervous or out of place. Unfortunately, all of these seemed well practiced in their labors, so she didn’t mind when Rof jerked his head at her for them to go.
He took the lead, seemingly itching to go now that they’d left the tent, and though he glanced over his shoulder every so often to check on her, Tif thought he was doing a rather poor job of carrying out Udaru’s orders. Rof should have forced her to walk in front of him, or at least beside. The way they were now, she could dash off when his back was turned--and if she thought that would have let her find whoever Vak-Lav was sending faster, she would have.
They reached the oversized das board, which someone, or more probably a group of someones, had reset. Walking by the metal pieces, Tif now knew all too well why each was so battered and doubted she’d ever forget the feel of holding the huge likenesses in her arms.
She touched the last one as they passed, saying, “Next time.”
Of course, before Tif would be rematching the Archon, she had a lot to figure out. Walking on the outside of the stone path, Rof still in the lead, Tif decided that the first thing she’d do when she came face-to-face with Vak-Lav was demand that her parents be released before she turned over her ris. If Vak-Lav refused, Tif could fight their way to freedom. She may not be able to beat a knight candidate or the Archon, but Vak-Lav’s thugs? Those she could take. But only as a last resort, or if she knew her parents were safe.
“We didn’t choose the best here, did we?” she said to Pep. “Don’t want to do that again.”
“Stop talking to yourself,” Rof said over his shoulder. They were walking beside the division leader’s stand now, which no longer had any of the arcknights on it that Tif could see.
She held up her hand. “I’m not. It’s just Pep.”
He looked over his shoulder again, glancing between her and Pep. “I guess Blood ris can’t heal your head.”
Tif didn’t bother to tell him that her head was perfectly fine, no thanks to him, in fact. She was used to people not understanding about Pep, even when she explained, so she had stopped trying years ago. She gave Pep a well practiced ‘We’ll talk more later’ look and hurried on, the sounds of a gathering ahead quickening her steps.
The three of them made their way around the division leader stand, finally finding where the crowds had gone. Everyone was off the viewing platforms and instead milling around the central area where the challenges had taken place. Spectators were looking at spots on the field that had been crushed or slashed, or having fun standing on the metal discs embedded in the hard earth. They were also talking loudly with the successful candidates, who could often be found standing by their division leader of choice. The people nearest burst into applause when they saw Rof, shouting words of congratulations and asking after which division he had chosen to join. The young keshe didn’t seem to care much for their well wishes and didn’t bother answering their question, knifing through the loose mass as if he planned to make for the center of the field. Tif trailed after him, trying to inspect everyone at once to find the contact who should be searching for her. Some seemed curious about her in return, but everyone gave her a wide berth, clearly aware of what her touch could do.
“This is precisely why I told you not to attend the third challenge,” a strong voice said.
Tif turned to see Jer striding toward her, and conflicting emotions began to war within her: on the one hand she was happy to see him, but on the other she was worried that a follower of Vak-Lav wouldn’t risk approaching her with both Jer and Rof so close.
“Why in the Aspect did you think challenging my mother to a game of das was a good idea?” he asked when he reached her, showing off his easy smile.
Tif had stopped and decided that it was good he was here. After finding out about her parents, she hadn’t thought at all about the Archon or how she wouldn’t be able to protect the leader of Lercel anymore.
“Nevermind that,” she said to him. “I’m not going to be able to help your ma like I hoped.” Tif had really meant the promise in his tent last night, and she hated that she wasn’t going to be able to see it through. “I’m sorry.”
“Not this again,” Jer replied, having the audacity to roll his eyes at her.
“What are you doing?” Rof growled, and Tif turned to see the young keshe at her shoulder. He was completely ignoring Jer and looked angry, but Tif had no idea why. It wasn’t like Udaru had said an exact place on the field that they needed to be.
“Ah,” Jer said, “I’ve been wondering about you.”
Rof was shorter and so had to glare up at the Archon’s son.
“Why?”
“Well, I don’t know you,” Jer said by way of explanation. “Before today I mean. Are you from the mids?”
Rof’s baleful stare got even worse than before, as if the Archon’s son had said exactly the wrong thing to him. “No,” he answered, his jaw barely cracking open to get the word out.
“…and would you care to elaborate on that,” Jer asked.
“Make this quick,” Rof said, looking only at her again. “Whatever it is.” The young keshe then went far enough away to make it clear he didn’t want to be involved in their conversation, but watched them rather creepily, ignoring anyone else who tried to talk to him.
“Pleasant fellow,” Jer noted. “He and Tad-Soo would get along like two cats in a sack I’m sure.”
Tif didn’t have time to worry about how Rof was acting; Udaru or her contact from the underground could be here any moment. She grabbed Jer by the front of his loose shirt, which quickly got his attention.
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“You accepted a place with the inner division, didn’t you?” If he hadn’t, that would make everything much harder.
His toothy smile returned. “I’m not in any of them.”
Tif’s hold on his shirt loosened. That didn’t make sense. She knew he had gotten at least one offer, the one from Udaru. Unless the fake servant hadn’t delivered it, but Rof had received his.
“You didn’t get any letters?”
“Oh no,” Jer said with a laugh. “I got in all of them. I’m not accepting any.”
“Then why did you participate?” she asked in disbelief.
He shrugged. “I wanted to see what it would be like.”
“But what about your ma? If you got in everywhere, that means you could join the inner division!” Tif saw a few people in the crowd look their way, so she dropped her voice. “You could protect her.” Like I can’t, she wanted to add but felt too guilty to say.
Jer shook his head. “I told you, she’s more than sufficiently protected. You saw the power of her second shroud, not to mention the heaps of jewelry she wears and the Aspects that follow her. She doesn’t need me.”
“But what if she does? You’re her son--”
“Don’t say ‘so it’s your responsibility’,” Jer said, and for a brief instant his expression was as dark as a storm. Then his hardness lightened, so fast it was almost scary. “As I said, there is no need.” Instead of continuing, he gave her a leg. “Tiforoth, it was a pleasure to meet you and have you share my tent, but with the knights escorting you home, here is where we part ways. Safe travels. Perhaps our paths shall cross in the future.” He didn’t so much as kiss her hand let alone her cheek as he turned from her, not giving her a chance to reply.
Watching that broad back of his saunter away, Tif couldn’t believe it. He really wasn’t going to do anything, for anyone it seemed.
“We told the wrong person, Pep.”
Frantically, she started scanning the crowds. Before they came for her, if she could just find--
“Sur-Rak!” she called. The keshe was about thirty feet distant, talking to Archon’s brother. Tif would have sprinted at her, but didn’t want Rof getting the wrong idea. “Sur-Rak!” she shouted again, jumping up and waving her hands. This time the keshe girl looked around, her face souring as soon as her luminous eyes landed on Tif. “Sur-Rak, please!” Sur-Rak hesitated, said a few words to the inner division leader, and then marched over.
Meanwhile, Rof was back beside her. “What are you doing now?” Tif could tell the young keshe was frustrated, but she wasn’t particularly concerned. As long as she didn’t go anywhere, he didn’t have a good reason to attack her, and trying to drag her away would present its own problem.
“What?” Sur-Rak snapped when she was close enough.
“I need to talk with you,” Tif said, but Sur-Rak’s attention had already been diverted.
“You,” she said with her tell-tale intensity. “Where did you learn your technique? It’s reminiscent of Tears compression. Did you study in Sah’Sah?”
The muscle in Rof’s jaw worked, and the angry look he gave Tif made it clear that he blamed her for all the questions he was getting. He walked away again, and Sur-Rak took a step like she was going to follow, so Tif spoke up--leaning in to keep the words between them.
“Someone wants to murder the Archon.”
Sur-Rak swung around to face her. “What?”
“I told Jer, but he says I shouldn’t worry.”
“Jer,” Sur-Rak said with a sneer. “He’s worse than useless.”
After her last exchange with him, Tif was starting to understand why Sur-Rak would say that.
“You were talking with the inner division leader,” Tif said to her. “Did you get in?” If Jer had refused them, Sur-Rak was the next logical choice.
“I did,” the keshe said, looking quite pleased with herself before demanding, “So, who is it?”
“I’m not entirely sure,” Tif admitted. “I just heard them, but I think the Western Patrol Leader is involved.” She said the last in the low, low whisper.
The keshe raised a sharp eyebrow at that accusation. “When are they planning it? How will they go about it?”
“I don’t know. I didn’t catch much.”
Sur-Rak huffed, exasperated. “Then what do you know?”
It only took a moment for Tif to relate what she had heard since there was so little of it: the Archon attending recruitment, which she had, but waiting to strike. Whoever it was not being ready.
“That’s barely useful …” Sur-Rak said. The keshe’s attention drifted, seeming to think on the words, and then it snapped back to Tif. “Have you told Division Leader Udaru yet?”
Tif felt embarrassed that she hadn’t, what with everything that had been happening with the underground and her parents.
“I will, but we’re leaving, so I wanted someone here to know.”
Sur-Rak, chewed on that bit of info, and the longer it went on, the less it seemed to Tif that the keshe would agree to do something.
“You have to protect the Archon,” Tif pressed.
Sur-Rak instantly stiffened. “I don’t have to do anything, particularly not something you say.”
“But you will though, won’t you?”
Sur-Rak opened her mouth to answer but stopped, and Tif could already see why: Udaru was back. The aquaros stood a few feet to the side with Rof, who looked rather smug.
She was out of time.
“It is a long road to the Blood Plains,” Udaru said to Sur-Rak. “So we will be taking this one.”
“It’s fine,” Tif heard Sur-Rak say, and her heart sank. She turned back in time to see the poised keshe flash a quick look at her. “I’m finished with the failure.”
“But--”
Sur-Rak had already turned away, heading back toward the Archon’s brother. Tif wanted to call after her, but at the same time she knew there was nothing else left to say. It was up to Sur-Rak now. Tif needed to focus on saving her parents.
It turned out that leaving the challenge field elicited no great pomp or ceremony. There were some people gathered outside the exit, chatting or shopping at nearby storefronts, but most were only passingly interested in the aquaros and the two former candidates who followed--though Tif caught more than one looking at her red ris just like they had on her way up the mountain.
Not a one tried to approach her or sneak her a message or attempt to impede Udaru in any way.
The aquaros took them to the nearest lift stop, which had a long line, but Udaru didn’t bother waiting, walking them beside the stretch of people. Tif heard some lift-goers start to protest, but the aquaros now wore a knight's black tabard with gold stitching of the triangle and southern star. Seeing it, the complaints dried up as quickly as they began. In addition, the division leader’s tabard got them free passage, the lift operator waving them all aboard without asking for a fee.
If events had flipped differently, Tif would have been looking forward to earning her own knight’s clothing someday soon, but as it was, she spent her time compulsively looking into every face they passed, finding no recognition or help. Her nerves were growing increasingly frayed as time carried onward without having the decency of providing her more news. It had been easier when talking to Jer and Sur-Rak, since she had felt like she was still doing something important, but now…Udaru wasn’t speaking, staying near the middle of the lift where there was a long, low wood wall with a bench on either side, and Rof’s natural state seemed to be silence. Not to mention, that strange ache below her heart was back.
If she stayed like she was any longer, Tif thought she might be sick.
“May I stand by the rail?” she asked them.
Though Udaru had given her care to Rof, it was the division leader who answered in a guttural croak: “That would actually be best. There are some things Rof and I must discuss.”
Tif didn’t even say thank you, moving toward the nearest side with stumbling steps as the lift swung a bit side to side, traveling along its line up into the air. When she reached the edge, she pressed hard against the metal railing, which came up to her chest, so she could lean as far out as possible, opening her mouth for the vomit that she thought was sure to follow.
Nothing came though, the nausea and worry refusing to leave her body. What if her parents were being tortured? Only a day ago her fa had taken a spear to the gut for her and now he might be in pain again. And her brave ma, who had jumped on that stocky, one-eyed thug. Tif hadn’t even thanked her for that yet and would never get to if they were already dead.
Tif closed her eyes, taking big breaths and trying to meditate like she never had before. It wasn’t the breathing that ended up helping though but the cool air buffeting her face. Gradually, the sensation eased her panic-stricken state, enough for her to open her eyes again. She was still leaning quite far out, and sliding along underneath her, five stories below, were the colorful ceramic tops of buildings that she remembered once finding so very beautiful.
Tif gathered herself and spun around, putting her back against the metal railing. The people she was with were what mattered right now, not the scenery. Besides Udaru and Rof, any of the passengers on the lift with her could be from the underground. Well, maybe not the two keshe children who were playing together, or the older keshe woman keeping an eye on them, but everyone else, from a well dressed human man staring at his pocket watch, to a young keshe couple who were standing by the railing about a dozen feet away, to any of the other fifty or so people on the lift.
Being alone should make it easier for whoever it was to approach her, so she had done the right thing to come to the railing. She waited, eyeing people whenever they came near, but that only seemed to make them go the other way. Maybe if she tried a different spot.
“Don’t move,” someone said in Tif’s right ear, and so of course she turned her head that way to look. Immediately, something sharp poked her cheek, which she jerked away from. “I said don’t move,” the high voice hissed, all in a rush.
“Sorry,” Tif said. Touching her skin came back with a small smear of blood on her fingers, but then her shoulder heated and the pinprick pain on her face went away. Tif still couldn’t see anyone standing on her right or left, so they had to be behind her. And the only thing behind her was open air. Tif thought she knew what that meant, or more specifically who, and the quick talking and sharp cut on her cheek synched it.
“You’re a fairy ris user,” Tif whispered, “of Life.”
“Well look who isn’t all the way dumb,” the little voice said back.
Tif didn’t think that was a very nice reply, but there was something much more important she needed to know. “From Vak-Lav.”
“Course I am,” the high voice answered, words running together like when Vytel had talked. “Best bounty hunter in the business, in fact. Think I wouldn’t find you just because you put on some servant-colored clothes? You’re not the first to try that trick.”
“They made me do that, at the challenges,” Tif said, feeling defensive.
“Sure they did,” the tiny voice mocked. “Just like somebody made you steal a fortune worth of Blood tattoos, knock Gar, Hum, and Viv around when they came to collect, and then climb up to the highs to show it to every knight under the sun. Hate it when that happens.”
“I didn’t mean--”
“Shush it,” the fairy said, and Tif snapped her mouth shut. “You keep talking to yourself, you look crazy, people get suspicious, and the next part gets harder.”
“Next part?”
Though Tif couldn’t see the fairy, in the pregnant pause of silence that followed her question, she was sure the little creature was smiling in answer.
“The part where you jump.”