Authors: Sarah Ahiers
YVAIN WAS A CITY AS DIFFERENT FROM RAVENNA AS
the dead plains monastery was from the palace in Genoni. Where Ravenna was a city of nightlife, masquerades, and carnivals, Yvain was tiny and quiet, more provincial, with fresh flowers in the window boxes of every house, and fragrant red mosses growing between the cobblestone streets.
I hated it immediately. There was no life to the people. No sea air and the sweet smell of the lantern oil. No fashion and pride in what they wore. In Yvain, the women didn't even cover their hair, and beneath the cloying smell of the flowers, the warm stench of sewage from the canals drifted everywhere.
Walls divided the city from the dead plains, since Rennes was not a country that bowed to Safraella. Ghosts could not pass through walls, and the city walls kept the dead plains ghosts out, but anyone who died within the city, behind the walls, and became an angry ghost would be trapped inside
the city with everyone else. So like the old days of Lovero, people stayed inside their homes once the sun set.
“Why doesn't their regent simply bow to Safraella?” I complained as the wagon slowly made its way into town behind a line of people entering the city before the sun set.
Faraday shrugged. “It's a question of geography. Lovero is pushed against the sea on the south and west, and bordered by the dead plains on the north and east. When the Sapienzas took the throne, the people supported a royal line that would bow to Safraella and free the country from the menace of the ghosts. But Yvain is the only city in Rennes pressed against the border of the dead plains. It's more easily managed with the walls, and any ghosts inside Yvain can't get farther into the country because of the canals. To the ghosts it's a labyrinth of waterways.”
“It still seems it would be a good idea to follow Safraella.”
“The people of Yvain, and Rennes as a whole, find our devotion to a goddess who deals in death and murder to be macabre at best.” Faraday chuckled.
“She offers resurrection.”
“Yvain's patron is Acacius, a minor god of crops and debts. It's why they have flowers everywhere. And you will find honorable people here. If they accrue a debt, they will do anything to repay it. If they are devout, Acacius gives them their own version of eternal life, by making them one with the land and plants and animals.”
“I'm sorry,” I scoffed. “But I'd rather deal with blood and death and return as a person than water some pretty flowers
and pay my debts and come back as a wheat field.”
“Well, you are biased. But for them, becoming part of the land is a form of immortality. They would rather try to live full lives here and now than be faced with death and murder only to be reborn and have to face it all over again. Acacius offers gardens and farms, trees and flowers. You will find little hunger in Rennes.”
We struggled to break free of the crowd, Faraday steering the wagon past the heavy gates of the city walls. He shifted in his seat. “You don't have to go after the Da Vias, you know.”
I stiffened. I hadn't told him my plan.
“Don't be alarmed. It just seems your most likely course of action.” Faraday grinned. “But no one seems to realize you, Lea Saldana, survived the attack on your Family. Very few people get such a clean chance at starting over.”
I pushed my growing anger aside. “You're suggesting I give up serving Safraella? You? Her disciple?” My whole life I'd been a clipper. If I gave it up now, no one would avenge my Family. Memories of the Saldanas would fade, until we'd simply become another of the lost Families. “Being a clipper is a calling.”
“Oh, I understand a calling. But can it truly be counted one if you're born into it? Did your mother or father ever ask if you wanted to be something else?”
I snorted. “Who would give up a life of money and power and respect?”
“Those things are gone with the lives of your Family.
Those things are fleeting, as you can see. Intangible.”
I looked away, scanning the faces of the crowd around us. They blended together until I didn't truly see anyone. “I do not care for the turn of this conversation, Brother.”
Faraday held up a hand in surrender. “I apologize. I forget you are not of the church and unused to discussions of philosophy and faith. I spoke out of concern for a sister and that is all.”
“Whatever my plans are, they are well considered.” Find Marcello. Enlist his help. Kill the Da Vias before they realized I'd survived their attack. Simple.
Faraday nodded, then drove the wagon down a street almost as busy as the entrance. He pulled the wagon off to the side and stopped.
“Here we are.” He gestured to a small building to his left. The setting sun highlighted a carving on the door, a blank bone mask. This was a church of Safraella.
“They allow our churches here?” I asked.
“Clippers are not allowed in Yvain, of course, but they do permit a few small churches. Mostly for the use of the monasteries. We return as many bodies from the dead plains to Rennes as we do to Lovero, but many of us can't make the trip back to our monasteries in one day. I'll stay here for the night and head back in the morning. There is plenty of room for you, too. The Brothers will be happy to welcome you.”
It would be easy to walk into the church, get a good night's sleep, then find my uncle in the morning.
But the Addamos were already after me. If they had sent
members to the monasteries, then next they'd be heading for the nearest cities, including Yvain. And the first place they'd check would be the churches. Anyone could be made to talk. Anyone.
“This will be where we part ways,” I said.
Faraday's smile dropped, but he nodded.
I jumped off the wagon and grabbed my two bags. “Thank you, Brother Faraday. I wish I could offer you something. In the past I would've granted you good grace with the Saldana Family. I still could, but it's not worth much these days.”
“I'll take it.” He leaned over me. “You may be the only Saldana now, but I do not think your Family's story is complete.”
“Well, it's kind of you to say so, anyway. If ever you need assistance, Brother Faraday, you need only ask it of a Saldana. There. Now it's official.”
“Thank you. Look for a letter from me. I will write with any information about your situation. Good luck, Lea Saldana.”
He clucked the horse forward into a small alley beside the church. I fought off a yawn. My shoulder, hand, and entire body ached from the Addamos and ghosts. I'd need to find somewhere to rest.
Around me, the streets grew empty as the sky grew darker. Unlike Ravenna, there were no crowds of people waiting for the moon to rise. The few who remained headed for inns, lit brightly against the encroaching darkness of the streets. Building after building held businesses where they'd
offer to lend money if paid back with interest. In Lovero, if people didn't pay their debts, someone typically hired a clipper to pay them a visit.
I walked along a canal, bags heavy in my hands, wrinkling my nose against the smell. The small boats people used as transportation were tied against docks and buildings. Lanterns adorned many of the boats, but for what purpose in a city that hid from the night, I didn't know. Perhaps Yvain had carnivals like Ravenna, and they decorated their boats with flowers and fires.
Remember why you're here.
I couldn't care about masquerades or good food or flirting with boys. None of that meant anything anymore. Maybe it never had. Maybe if I'd been more like Matteo, focused on my studies, I would've been able to save my Family. To save Rafeo, who was lying alone in the tunnel.
I could still do it. If I worked hard, became the best clipper, maybe She would undo what had happened. Maybe She would return my Family to me.
Even just Rafeo. If I could have Rafeo, I could serve You better.
No. It was impossible. True resurrections never happened. Or at least hadn't happened in hundreds of years. It was a stupid thing to wish for, but I couldn't help it. I missed them so much. So much.
This was my punishment. My terrible secret. Val had brought about my Family's death. They were gone forever and I was alone and this was my burden to bear.
I shook my head, freeing it from heavy thoughts, and found a dark alley to hide in. Safe from prying eyes, I changed out
of the garments the monastery had provided and slipped into my familiar leathers. My boots buckled tightly against my calves and the belts fit snug around my waist, though they were too light without their customary weapons. I opened my second pack and slipped on every knife I could fit around my waist, in my boots, and on my arms. I sheathed my short sword and filled a pouch with a fair selection of my favorite poisons. After a moment of thought, I included a few smoke bombs as well. This was a new city, a new country. Better to carry a bit of everything and not need it than to regret something left in a pack.
There were no clippers in Rennes, or anywhere else other than Lovero. There were only nine Families, and we all called Lovero home. Maybe one day, if worship of Safraella spread past Loveran borders, there would be clippers in other cities, but for now I was alone.
I pulled on my cloak, fingering the small stitches a priest had used to close the arrow hole. My shoulder ached fiercely. Finally, I slipped on Rafeo's mask, inhaling deeply the smell of fresh oil used to clean it. I was safe now, behind the mask. And it was time to get to work.
I tied a rope around my bags so they would hang below me, then approached a nicely pitted wall, easy for climbing. I'd get to the roof, stash my belongings for now, and then explore the city and try to learn its ways. Maybe, if I was truly lucky, I'd actually find my uncle tonight and I could be back on my way to Ravenna with him tomorrow morning. Of course, chances were it would take a few days of
searching and questioning the right people. After all, he'd been a Saldana once and could hide effectively.
I yawned. Or maybe I could just find somewhere to get some rest first. Yes, I wanted to find Marcello as soon as possible, especially since the Addamos were after meâand it was only a matter of time before the Da Vias learned about me, tooâbut I would be of no use exhausted.
I tightened my grip on the wall and pulled myself up.
My shoulder exploded in pain. I gasped, dropping to the street. I clutched my shoulder and closed my eyes until the pain faded to a steadier ache.
Damn it. I was too tired, and not thinking straight. My shoulder couldn't support me so soon after being stitched up.
I looked up at the roofs. I would find no sanctuary among them tonight. I'd have to find somewhere else, somewhere other than the churches or inns where the Addamos would be sure to look.
As much as a bed called to me, I couldn't take the risk.
I leaned against the alley wall, my muscles sagging, my body begging me to rest, to sleep.
The city remained empty except for a few people heading quickly to their destinations. It was so unlike Ravenna, where there was nothing to fear in the night. Well, except for the clippers. But now, with the hush and the quiet floating across the streets, gooseflesh broke out on my skin. I'd never seen people live this way.
A scream stabbed the night.
That was more like it. I turned, trying to pinpoint the
sound. Muffled shouts were followed by scuffs on cobblestones. I grabbed my bags and rushed down the streets, my fatigue forgotten in the moment.
The noise stopped.
Ahead of me, a man stepped out of an alley, rubbing a hand through his white hair. I paused and he turned, catching sight of me. His face blanched and he shouted, then fled.
In Ravenna, people feared my mask, but they also respected me. Here, the man had just reacted in terror.
I let him race away. I had no reason to chase him.
I stepped into the alley, and there lay a body.
I approached it, waiting for any movement, but none came. I knew now why the man had fled so quickly.
The body was that of a young man, not much older than me. He had smooth brown skin and a dusting of hair over his lip. He had been stabbed in the chest three times, and his blank eyes stared at the dark skies. His coin bag lay beside him, torn during the struggle and empty.
He had been murdered for money.
A sudden surge of anger filled my chest. I should have chased after that man. I should have made him pay for what he'd done to this boy. I was a murderer, yes, but I murdered in the name of a god, and the deaths I brought came with the promise of a new life. What did this boy's death grant him?
He had been killed for no higher reason. He had been murdered in cold blood for a few coins.
The boy's blood seeped into his linen shirt, and I remembered how Rafeo's blood soaked his leathers, his hands weak
and cold in the tunnel.
My leathers felt suddenly tight around my chest, and I fumbled around in my pocket until I pulled free one of my remaining Saldana Family coins.
My burned hand ached when I looked at it, but I leaned over and placed the coin in the boy's mouth, humming my song. Maybe it wouldn't work. Maybe he followed Acacius and his soul had already been reborn as a shrub or something. But if he hadn't, then maybe Safraella would see my coin and give him a new life.
Behind me, I heard a noise, like a puff of air, or a loud exhale. I turned.
A ghost floated at the entrance to the alley, staring at me.
My blood froze and my hand instinctively dropped to the sword strapped to my hip. Not that the sword would do anything.
The ghost charged, its high-pitched shrieks bouncing off the walls and filling the alley.
I grabbed my bags and ran. After the dead plains I knew the ghost was faster than me, but the alley ended at a canal, and maybe a crooked bridge stood nearby.
I reached the canal. My boots slid to a stop at the edge. I looked left. Right. No bridges. Nothing. I was trapped. The ghosts couldn't cross the water, but neither could I.