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—the 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—which 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—”

“--the what—” 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—which is much too formal for someone of her Purity to be doing to an Ospry girl—she 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—we 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—in 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—which 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.

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“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—can 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—Rain 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—” 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—”

“Yes, I know,” Missus Yarna says irritably.

I glance at Chi-Chi and Ponnie, bewildered.

“Missus, it’s the plague. Miss Gennado—” 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—” 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—”

“How-who—”

“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—the last element, aside from fire.”

“That… that’s not possible,” I say. “There can only be three—”

“There are eye-witness accounts, apparently—”

“We shouldn’t be talking about this out here, Kaki—”

“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—”

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.”

***