Already Alize’s senses had dulled to the novelty of the city. As she led Menah through it, she could sense her sister’s curiosity and awe, though Menah remained careful to keep her head down. The Sargons barely questioned them on the road, turning away as soon as Alize announced she bore a Hrumi prisoner, found prowling a village in the night.
The townspeople in outer Parousia clutched their wares and their children close as Alize eased her horse towards the city gates. A woman with wild hair stood to the side of the road, screaming as she threw the contents of her pail towards the other travelers crowding through the street. Alize recognized her voice, cursing strangers, from the first time she had entered the city. But when she and Menah passed, the woman drew back her hand and lifted her gaze briefly before dropping it to the ground. Her reaction puzzled Alize, but she could say nothing to Menah.
The gloomy gray of the winter had seeped into the city and dampened even Icar’s aggressive colors. Alize shivered as they passed under the outer ramparts. Sargons halted the horse at the gate to the covered market leading to the old city. Alize waited for them to acknowledge Menah, who was obvious by her clothing as a Hrumi, but the Sargon’s gazes seemed to linger on Alize before passing right over her companion.
Finally Alize could stand it no longer. “This Hrumi has been lurking in Ballendosch, seeking children. I offer her for Icar’s judgment.”
The Sargons faced her, their helmets concealing all expressions.
Alize stiffened as she tried to understand their stalled reaction. “Is it true Icar holds the Hrumi from the Temple Battle in the Parousia prison?”
Still no Sargon acknowledged her.
“I demand you imprison this woman!” Alize shouted. This reaction deviated so far from what she had expected that she began questioning the entire plan.
Finally one of the Sargons hunched his shoulders. “I’ll get Aghta.”
Alize coughed to hid her surprise. Where was Kell?
As she and Menah stood waiting, the people avoided acknowledging them and Alize sighed. It brought the smell of fresh rot to her nose. In that moment the wind picked up and it carried the sickening stench of decaying flesh. Alize had avoiding looking at the upper ramparts, to see Essa’s body still rotting. But after so long, the decomposition should have been mostly complete. This noisesome smell was newer.
Slowly Alize raised her gaze skywards.
Above her Essa’s corpse still languished in the jutting spike, but no longer alone. Seven more Hrumi corpses lined the inner wall, mangled, with their chests and stomachs ripped open and their gazes blank with the morbid eternity of death.
Bile rose in Alize’s throat and she fought against the nausea washing through her. She turned around to face the outer wall, and it too swarmed with bodies. The blood of nearly twenty women dripped down the cold stones.
“Menah,” Alize whispered, “we must go back.”
She could feel Menah shift behind her, lifting her gaze. Their horse brayed in discomfort as Menah fought to quell her reaction. “It is too late. Keep your disguise, Alize,” she rasped. “If you cannot help me, the Kogaloks will.”
Alize’s heart pounded. Just then the inner gate opened and a Sargon emerged. Like Viken in the Deku robe, Alize could recognize Aghta’s saunter beneath the Sargon mask, even though she had never once seen his face. The mask had become his identity.
“I don’t believe it,” Aghta laughed as he approached, “it’s Alize, from the forest? Still looking for your lost sister? I must have misjudged you, but as always I do appreciate a good bribe.”
Alize stammered her response. “This Hrumi was captured outside-”
“Stop. I do not care. The Deku thank you for the gesture, but they have little use for back stories. You understand.”
Alize bit back her shock at the mention of the Deku. “I do not understand.”
Aghta laughed as he gestured to the bodies towering above him. “Even denser than you look then. Dismount. Now.”
After Alize stood away from the horse Aghta turned to Menah, grasping her hair roughly. He pulled her from her sitting position and though she held out her bound hands to catch herself, her head hit the ground first with a heavy thud. Aghta grabbed her hair again to force her onto her feet. She had not made a sound but blood dripped from her nose to her chin and her cheekbone already shone with a developing bruise.
Alize swelled with rage but Menah met her gaze for an instant, her eyes unyielding. Alize bit her tongue. Her disguise was the only advantage that remained to help her or her sisters.
“Icar thanks you for your service,” Aghta called over his shoulder as he dragged Menah away while Alize watched.
When the silence settled once more Alize turned to the gate of the covered market. Two Sargons guarded it but when she stalked to the entrance they stood aside abashedly. Alize brushed past them and shoved into the crowd within, forcing them to make way for her anger and her horse. This was a whole new level of disaster. And she could do nothing. The bitterness crushed her. For the first time since the Temple battle, Alize wished that she could call the echoes once more.
In her memory, she had wielded the echoes’ power with something close to intuition until the moment she released her dagger. It was the last time she held her soul and it had come with immense pain as the echoes consumed her. They had lifted her skyward and set her body ablaze. She did not remember landing in the marshlands, only the cool breeze on her searing skin and the smell of burning. The memory played out almost nightly in her dreams, waking her with a cold sweat.
Viken had taunted her in the citadel, demanding Alize call the echoes again. She had refused, fearing above all the pain and the powerlessness. But the truth was she could not call them, not without her dagger, not without her soul. She was lost in a sea of unfamiliar shores. Sosje’s faith had reinforced her, but Alize could not forget she was Deku. They had robbed Alize even the ability to define herself. Without it, she was slowly crumbling to pieces.
And the helplessness she felt as she staggered through the market place was far more profound than the physical agony of the echoes. She had brought her sister to her death, had waited uselessly while the imprisoned Hrumi were tortured and murdered. If she could call the echoes to save her sisters, she would do it in a heartbeat.
And yet that changed nothing.
Her feet slowed. Alize found herself unable to go any further. She pulled Kell’s horse to the side of the passageway and leaned against the wall. Its damp surface seeped through her dress, through the remains of her resolve. She hiccupped against the sobs that rumbled in her stomach and lifted her gaze to the dome above her. She choked on the wail of repentance ripping from her chest and the people nearby in the market turned to regard her with trepidation.
Memories flashed through Alize’s mind, doused in regret, and she focused for a moment on Hesna’s face, clear for the first time in so many years. What had she planned, stealing Deku child?
But Alize could not hold Hesna in her mind. The features morphed into Celile’s, blood dripping from her mouth, murmuring her last words in this life. Your ambition will ruin everything we have built.
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Alize groaned against the blossoming guilt in her chest. From somewhere deep and dark in her mind, a terrible idea thrust forth. What if the Deku targeted the Hrumi because of Alize? What if her sister’s blood spilled because of her own personal corruption? What if they punished her sisters for Hesna’s initials crimes and Alize’s recent escape? How much blood was already on her hands, her lost soul sodden with death? The fears gripped her, restless like worms writhing on to the road during a rainstorm. They nestled into her brain, eager and unforgiving.
“Alize,” a voice cut through her despair, “Nocturne, look at me.”
Alize shook. Davram stood before her. He reached out to grasp her shoulders to keep her from slipping forward. There was strength in his grip.
The Ginmae prince who thought he could help a Deku.
“Leave me,” she growled, forcing his hands off her, “I’m poison.”
“Nonsense. You might be late, but thank Rehsan you’re here.”
Alize inhaled, seeking calm, or at least the appearance of it. The Ginmae prince should be the last person in the world grateful to see her. Yet, even as that thought threatened to cast her back into her own personal chasm, she observed Davram anew.
Gone was the pallor that had lingered, and his cheeks flushed ruddy, even if some shadows still framed his eyes. He watched her with certitude and carried himself with the strength of new convictions.
And he pulled Alize into him, holding her tightly. His embrace bore none of the thrill Alize felt in Kell’s arms, but the steadfast support of a friend. Alize basked in it, drawing comfort so dear it brought new tears to her eyes. She did not stop them from running down her cheeks.
Davram wiped them away with his glove when he released her. “Come on,” he said. “The day grows old and there is much to do, now that you’ve returned.”
The shop stalls of the covered market blurred as Davram guided her around the corners and down the pasageways. They went first to the stables where Davram dismissed the ire of the hostler for returning the horse so late. Alize barely heard the argument. Each time she blinked she saw her sisters’ bodies strung on the ramparts.
They arrived at Kell’s residence and under the glowering evening, Davram turned the key. Alize sought refuge inside, even as she agonized that her sisters did not have such a choice, such a security. The prison was bad enough, but the city wall was so much worse.
Footsteps wound down the staircase even before Davram shut the door behind them. “Davram, where have you been? We’ve got a guest-” Kell’s eyes lit on Alize. A new welt ran down his cheek but Alize had only an instant to observe it before his face twisted in displeasure.
He groaned in disbelief, “Oh honestly? She was supposed return two days ago, and she comes now? Of all times?”
“Who’s here?” Davram asked.
Alize took a single step forward. She could barely see Kell through the vision of her dead sisters.
Kell continued undeterred, “That’s the last time I lend you a steed, that’s for certain!”
“You dare berate me for a horse,” Alize could barely control her voice, “after what I just saw at your city gate? You have betrayed everything you ever told me!”
“Not Kell,” Davram interjected.
“That discussion,” Kell replied with a pointed finger, “could have happened literally any other time but right now.”
“Oh we’re having it now-”
“Sargon Davram?”
A woman spoke. Alize whirled to see her entering from the sitting room. Her riding dress hung muddied about her and her unkempt hair framed her clear dark skin. Still, she walked with her shoulders guiding the movements, as someone accustomed to taking up more space than her due.
“Who is this?” Alize demanded.
At her appearance, Kell paled and Davram gaped openly.
“Pardon us,” Davram stuttered, “Milady-”
“We’ve no time for this!” Alize snarled, gesturing to the woman, “Leave! Return to your business and leave us to ours!”
Alize’s next words were muffled as Kell clamped his hand over her mouth and twisted her away from the woman.
“Stop it,” he chided in her ear, “don’t burn your bridges before you know where they lead.”
“No willow can help us!” Alize hissed, using the Hrumi term for non-Hrumi women.
“You don’t know who she is!”
But he released her as the woman approach behind him. “Thank you, Kelesh, but you need not worry on my behalf.” She assessed Alize with a serene gaze. Her eyes were light gray, and Alize could see depth in them.
Alize found herself standing up straighter without registering deciding to.
“In autumn I might have slapped you across the face for such impudence,” the woman spoke, “but we are under new circumstances, are we not? I suppose we must all do some adjusting.”
“Forgive our acquaintance,” Kell responded, “She grew up in the countryside where they have coarse manners.”
“She means no disrespect, I assure you, milady,” Davram interjected. “She does not know you.”
“She should,” the woman replied sternly but her eyes danced in amusement, “You introduced us in Venin.”
Silence followed her pronouncement and then Kell muttered, “Alize, I think you better go upstairs.” His pressed his fingers to Alize’s back.
His touch did not propel Alize forward. Indeed, it flushed heat through her that steadied her resolve. Surely not Kell’s intention.
“She stays,” the woman stated and her tone left no room for flexibility, “Kelesh, if we are truly to discuss sedition, who better to help us than a Hrumi?”
Both Davram and Kell visibly deflated.
“How did you know?” Davram asked weakly.
“My father recognized her in the throne room. She made quite the impression.”
And Alize placed the woman in her memory. They had met at the gate to Venin. “Princess Greer,” Alize lilted before her voice turned steely, “then it is your family who strings mine from the city ramparts-”
“Again, no.” Davram said. His voice sounded ever sturdier. “Milady is Prince Tamer’s daughter and she is in exile. She risked her life coming here.” Davram bowed lowly to the Princess. “Milady, please, a Sargon has no higher honor than to assist those as worthy as yourself.”
Alize rolled her eyes to Kell only to catch him doing the same. They shared a tacit smile and a lump rose in Alize’s throat. She had to look away.
Greer flushed at Davram’s words, but regained her composure quickly. “Then you too Davram, are willing to help my father?”
“You wound me by asking.”
Alize noted a new softness in Davram’s voice, a richer, gentler version of the Sargon she knew.
Greer said nothing but her eyes glowed.
“Alize,” Kell murmured, “it’s not even Prince Icar who ordered the Hrumi killed. The day you left, the Icar relinquished control of the prison as payment for his brother Nader’s assassination.”
Closing her eyes and praying she misunderstood, Alize spoke her greatest fear. “Payment to the Deku.”
“Yes. You were right, they were in the city.”
Greer nodded. “My uncle Icar hired them to kill my uncle Nader and my father. And they named their fee. His Hrumi prisoners.”
With all her fears confirmed, Alize faltered. She dropped her bag to the ground, anticipating and relishing the heavy clatter that so nearly resembled her own internal uproar.
“She knows something,” Greer announced, “why do the Deku take interest in my family’s conflict?”
“Your family? This may have nothing to do with your family,” Alize rasped.
Greer took a step closer. Her anger had power too, a tempest under the decaying stucco ceiling, “Until this war ends, a death sentence hangs over my father-”
“And my sisters hang dead from your ramparts!” Alize shouted. She raised her fists, clenched, ready to strike. And in that moment she forced herself to halt, biting back the rage, pressing her lips together as she drew a deep breath. Managing her despair required enormous strength, but still she eased herself away from her attack stance.
The princess watched her with steady eyes. “You would attack me, mistress Hrumi?” Greer murmured, her own reaction understated against Alize’s nearly uncontrolled tumult.
Alize flexed her fingers. “A Hrumi acts only in self-defense.”
Though Greer made no movements, her gaze transformed to something curious, prodding, “My grandfather Jorin might disagree.”
Alize heard the challenge in her words, the question. No we are not innocent, Alize contended silently, but neither are you. We are a choir of guilt. Shall we not harmonize?
“Yet,” Alize demurred, “his granddaughter is accustomed to slapping people for the crime of ignorance?”
Greer hesitated. An amusement danced across her face before her expression settled into scrutiny once more. “Forgive my offense.”
With a start, Alize recognized something in Greer. She was trodding an unlit path, aware of all of the people who followed behind her. Hundreds of lives hung in the balance, beholden to any mistake she might make. It was a feeling Alize knew too well. The princess had bared her own fears without even realizing she bared Alize’s.
Alize could not admonish her for that. Indeed, it made her warm slightly to the princess. If nothing else, she was brave. “It is forgotten,” Alize answered. “I do not care to make more enemies.”
“Wise words,” Greer’s responding smile seemed more genuine, confident, “Now, the shadows lengthen and I cannot risk staying the night after the city gates close. Kelesh, I trust you will convey my message to Sargon Davram. And Mistress Hrumi,” the princess paled slightly, as though she struggled in her words, even as she kept her face serene as still water, “Sargon Kelesh has agreed to attend to my father to discuss strategy. If you so choose, I invite you as well. It seems the Hrumi and my father have a common enemy, and perhaps that will provide us some common ground. Think on it.”
Alize could only frown at the princess while Kell bowed lowly.
Davram did the same, though he collided with Greer as he did it. She stepped backwards and Davram rose abashedly, catching Greer’s hand to apologize. Alize watched his fingers flit over her wrist, the tender part where the veins were closest to the surface. The princess’s eyes lit up as she assured Davram she was unharmed. Their movements slowed to a halt, their eyes locked as they breathed a single breath together.
Then Davram dropped his hand. The princess gathered herself together and curtsied almost to the floor, the movements giving her sullied dress the appearance of royal robes. Davram opened the door and Greer lowered her hood.
As she disappeared into the night, Alize watched Davram trace each flicker of her cape until the bustling crowd swallowed her.