Meleng stared ahead, but didn’t really see anything. Right now, he was a mixture of exhaustion and worry, and little existed beyond that. Technically, he was back at his post in the entry foyer, ready to activate his circuits if the forces outside made it to the doors. But it was pointless. They weren’t coming up. Even if they wanted to—and he was fairly certain they didn’t—they weren’t going to get past Jorvan, who had the far superior position.
Mitchal Plavin’s presence inside the Hall of Knowledge should be the higher priority. Pedrin said that was their priority, but he still insisted Meleng stay here for now, “just in case.” Until they figured out what they were going to do.
And maybe after that too.
Pedrin felt Meleng was too close to the situation.
Of course he was close! Sinitïa could be in danger. So could Agernon and Corvinian. He had no idea where they were or what had happened to them.
Everyone here was emotionally involved in the situation. Many had lost friends and colleagues below. Was Meleng’s situation all that different?
One thing was certain. If Sinitïa was hurt or, gods forbid, dead, he would…
He had never before in his life felt such an intense desire to kill someone. But he would.
He would kill Mitchal Plavin, or die himself trying.
There was a loud thud near him. “Wake up, boy.”
Meleng blinked several times. As his vision cleared, he looked at Angelida who was now standing beside him. She was raising her cane to make another thud. “I’m awake.”
She lowered her cane without thudding it. “Physically maybe, but lost in daydreams.”
“Not exactly.” He closed his eyes for a moment. When he opened them again, nothing about Angelida had changed. He almost wished something had. It this were an illusion, maybe the real Sinitïa was safe.
Angelida closed her eyes briefly and gave a slight nod. “I understand your distress, lad. I’ve loved before. But you need to focus that anger and worry into something constructive. Come.”
“Where?”
Angelida pointed with her cane to the back of the foyer, where Pedrin was pacing. Near him, Feviona stood with her head to the ceiling, deep in concentration. “We need to change our strategy.”
“I’ve tried to suggest—”
“And you can try again with my help.” She grabbed Meleng’s arm and yanked him forward.
“Okay, okay.” He pulled his arm free and followed Angelida over to Pedrin.
“Pedrin, we need to talk,” Angelida said as they reached him.
Right then, Feviona threw up her arms and stamped her foot on the floor. She signed several things that Meleng was pretty certain were expletives.
“What’s with her?” Angelida said.
“She’s been communicating with Mikranasta, I think,” Pedrin said.
Angelida scowled. “Still not coming to our aid, I take it?”
Pedrin shook his head. “So it would appear.”
Feviona stomped over to them. Sometimes, I wish her wings would rot, she drives me so crazy! Well, fuck her. We’ll do this on our own.
“What’s she saying?” Angelida asked.
Meleng gave a slight shrug. “Just confirming that Mikranasta isn’t helping, and saying that we can do this on our own.” After a pause, he added, “I think.” He felt a bit odd having become Feviona’s translator. He hadn’t mastered the language yet. In fact, he was far from mastering it. With most of her signs, he was filling in meaning just from context rather actually recognising them. He couldn’t be sure he was understanding exactly.
Of course, did it matter if it was exact, as long as the meaning was there? It was like his equations. Close was good enough.
It was easy to tell himself that. It was much harder to believe it.
“Tell her we need to start planning our attack,” Angelida said. “Pedrin, I’m sorry, but we’ve waited long enough as it is. You’re being far too timid in your approach to this.”
“Good people have died,” Pedrin said. “I’m trying to prevent more.”
“And doing nothing disrespects those who have already died.”
Pedrin rounded on her. “Look, I’m not a warrior. None of us are. I’m doing the best I can.”
Angelida pointed to Feviona. “She is. Perhaps we should follow her lead.” She stared at Meleng for a moment. “Well?”
Meleng blinked. “Oh right.” Translating Feviona’s words was one thing; having to turn the others’ words into signs was a lot harder. They want to start planning to attack.
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Feviona nodded. Good.
And they want you to do the planning.
Feviona smiled. Good. Then this is what we will do.
Meleng translated as she launched into her plan. “We have to assume they have an underground path into the Hall of Knowledge you don’t know about.” Feviona had asked earlier for schematics of the Hall, but Pedrin had informed her they didn’t have any original ones, only ones that had been drawn after the Hall’s construction. No one knew for certain what had happened to the original schematics, but it was believed they were in the possession of the Belones. The Bloods’ presence in the Hall now had pretty much confirmed that belief. “We need to find that passage.”
“How?” Angelida asked. “And even if we find it, it will be guarded.”
“Of course it will,” Meleng translated, “but that’s fine. They must have...um...uh...oh! They must have a line of communication between those outside and the ones inside. We need to get them to use it so we can follow it. We will attack the ones outside.”
“But there are so many more out there,” Pedrin said.
Meleng translated for Feviona, but he didn’t need to wait for her reply. “We have the advantage of open space outside, specifically the sky.” He signed his own words as he spoke. “Jorvan has been holding them off by himself. He and Feviona, together with the rest of us, they won’t stand a chance.”
Feviona nodded approvingly.
“But what about the ones in here?” Pedrin said.
Angelida shook her head and sighed. “You’re smarter than that, Pedrin. I’ll assume it’s the lack of sleep. As Meleng explained already, we need to find that passage. When they come under heavy attack, they’ll send a message. We have to catch them doing that, and follow the messenger.”
“And if we don’t spot the messenger?” Pedrin asked.
Feviona shrugged. Then we hope our attack is enough to lure the something commander out. She didn’t have a name sign for Mitchal Plavin, so had taken to referring to him as the commander along with some sort of derogatory adjective. Meleng wasn’t sure what precise word she had described him with this time. It had never occurred to him before just how many ways there were to insult a person.
“If we do spot the messenger,” Angelida said, “who does the following?”
Feviona sighed. Ideally, it would be Mikranasta, but that shit-for-wings won’t do it, so I leave it up to you to recommend someone.
Meleng grimaced. “Uh, she’s willing to take recommendations since Mikranasta won’t do it.”
Pedrin rubbed his chin. “I’m not sure who to suggest. We don’t have any other mentalists.” He looked to Angelida. “Who do we have who’s good at staying out of sight?”
Angelida leaned on her cane. “Feena perhaps, though I’m loath to put her at such risk.”
“You’re the one who said we have to do something,” Pedrin said.
Angelida scowled. “I know, but she’s only fourteen. What about Fridrin?”
They’re deciding who, Meleng told Feviona.
She came over to him while Pedrin and Angelida continued to argue. How are you doing?
Meleng sighed. Tired.
Feviona tilted her head and just looked at him.
And worried, he added.
She gave him a sad smiled, then stepped up closer and wrapped her wings around him. He bent his head down so they could touch foreheads, and wrapped his arms around her neck.
They stood there for a few moments. Meleng closed his eyes, and tried not to cry, though a few tears dropped anyway. Feviona pressed her wings tighter against him, and he did the same with his arms, held her tight. So tight. The tears fell liberally.
Eventually, they separated, and Meleng wiped his eyes. It had probably been no more than a few seconds—Pedrin and Angelida were still arguing—but it had been a nice few seconds.
We will find her, Feviona said.
Meleng nodded. I know.
When we take the shit-caster commander, do you want me to save him for you?
Meleng stared a moment, then shook his head. No, if you get the chance… He paused. If you get the chance, kill him. Don’t wait for me.
Feviona placed a hand on his cheek, leaned forward, and kissed his other cheek. She stepped back. I promise you, he will die.
Thank you.
Now come. While those two argue, we need to make other preparations.