Authors: Leah Cypess
Evin bent his head humbly. “May I please have permission, too, Gracious One?”
Karyn folded her arms over her chest. “Will you see your brother?”
“Yes,” Evin said, keeping his head bowed.
“Why don’t you bring him back with you for a visit? It’s past time—”
“Of course,” Evin said, lifting his head.
Karyn narrowed her eyes. “Good. Bring him to me when you get back.”
Once they were back on the ledge outside the mountain, the sky vast and blue above them, Arxis asked, “Did you mean it? Girad will be coming back with us?”
“No,” Evin said flatly. “But whatever excuses I would have made now will be far more effective later, when it’s too late for her to argue.”
“She’s going to be furious,” Arxis said.
“My, you are a bearer of great wisdom. Tell me, which way
is
the city? Up or—”
Arxis shoved him—a little too forcefully, a little too close to the edge—and every muscle in Ileni’s body tensed. But Evin just laughed and shoved back.
You’re walking with two people who might kill you,
Ileni thought at him.
He glanced back at her, as if feeling the force of her gaze, and she looked quickly away. She wasn’t sure what he might read on her face.
T
he city started before the mountain ended, wooden huts and streets clinging to the slopes, harried-looking men carrying gigantic packs up narrow stairways. Within two minutes, Ileni had seen more people—and more different types of people—than in her entire seventeen years of life. She did her best not to gawk, aware that both Evin and Arxis were watching her.
But when they finally got to level land, she couldn’t help herself. The city stretched ahead of them, a warren of streets and alleyways, weathered stone and iron rails, and
people.
Most of them were walking calmly down the
streets, turning into the narrow alleyways, hair streaming behind them in the breeze, or cropped short, or wrapped in colorful kerchiefs. All around her conversation hummed, and it took her a moment to realize, through the cacophony, that much of it was in a language—or languages—she didn’t understand.
A man ran in front of her pushing a large wheeled crate, shouting at the top of his lungs, as if the noise itself would blast any obstacles out of his way. Ileni stopped short.
The vastness of the city spilled over her, making her feel small. It made everything she had ever known feel small. How tiny and insignificant her people really were, and how peculiar her life would seem to these masses. Even if she had fulfilled her destiny and become the greatest leader the Renegai had ever known, she still would have been nothing and no one to any of the hundreds of people milling in the streets in front of her.
Evin cleared his throat. Ileni glanced at him sideways and saw that he was watching her. Arxis was watching her, too, and a shiver ran through her. The assassins were even fewer in number than the Renegai, yet probably every person in this city had heard of
them
.
“Impressive, isn’t it?” Evin said.
Ileni tried to compose her face, aware that she was failing miserably. But he didn’t look smug. He looked . . . proud. Like it meant something to him that she was impressed. Like the Empire was a work of art for him to show off.
“Yes,” she managed, and his cheeks creased sharply as he grinned at her.
“It’s not even the biggest city in the Empire,” Arxis added.
He
was definitely smug.
Ileni pulled her gaze from Evin’s, reminding herself that the Empire was held together by the Academy, and the Academy’s fate lay in her hands. It helped. She straightened and said, “How far is the Merchants’ Triangle?”
“Not far,” Evin said, which was a singularly unhelpful answer. “But let’s go to the Black Sisters first.”
They walked through the crowded streets, passing so many people that Ileni couldn’t focus on any of them. A few caught her attention briefly—a woman taller than she had realized people could be, a nearly naked man with elaborate blue tattoos wreathing over his body, a child with his ears stretched long by dangling coils of gold. Small, bright green birds whizzed occasionally through the street, veering around unconcerned people, leaking magic from every feather. Neither Evin nor Arxis seemed to find any of
this unusual, and every time Ileni opened her mouth to ask a question, a combination of shame and despair made her shut it again.
They turned a corner, and Evin swerved to lead them around a group of ragged children. One, a boy no older than eight, watched them with surly fury. But his anger shone only out of one eye; beneath a dirty lock of ragged hair, his other eye was sealed shut, covered with red and brown pus.
“Keep walking,” Evin said, not lowering his voice. “Give them half a chance and they’ll rob you blind.”
The boy made a rude gesture at them, somewhat hindered by the fact that he had only one hand. His left arm ended in a stump, the skin smooth and round.
Sorin’s voice in her mind. She could still remember his exact words, his flat, emotionless tone—back then, she still hadn’t been able to read his expressions.
That’s the punishment for theft all through the Empire, no matter the age of the thief.
She almost stopped. Instead she quickened her pace, so that she was right beside Evin.
“Who are they?” she asked.
Her voice was tight with anger, but Evin didn’t slow down. “Abandoned children, probably. Or runaways.”
He said it the way he would have answered a question
about what was for dinner. And he hadn’t spared the children a second glance.
Sorin had been a boy like that once. Ileni dug her fingers into the side of her leg. “Shouldn’t someone help them?”
Arxis snorted. “Feel free to be that someone.”
“These children are all over the city,” Evin said. “There’s nothing to be done.”
Ileni sucked in her breath. “It must make life easier,” she said bitingly, “when you just
accept
everything in it.”
“It does.” Evin gave her a sideways nod, as if pleased that she’d understood.
A week ago, she might have dropped it, with perhaps a snort at his perpetual laziness. She clenched her hands until they hurt. “There must be something to be done. You—
you
—could make a difference, if you really wanted to. But you’d rather play with lights and colors. I understand.”
Evin smiled, but there was something hard in it. “No, Ileni. I don’t think you do.”
Evin was dangerous, of course—he must be, with the amount of power he possessed—yet she had never, until this moment, thought of him that way. It was an oddly disconcerting realization, even though she was thoroughly accustomed to dangerous people by now. Ileni covered her
confusion with a sneer. “What, do you have hidden depths and secret plans?”
He laughed aloud, and the edge vanished, replaced by his perpetual amusement. “If it comforts you to think so, far be it from me to deny it. I have great and noble ambitions. I want to save the world.”
And for a moment, she felt as he did: that it was a ridiculous thing to want.
Her breath rasped painfully through her chest. She faced forward and strode ahead.
After some indeterminate amount of time—long enough for Ileni’s calves to start aching—the streets widened again, and the press of people thinned out. Another sound became audible through the buzz of conversation and footsteps: a rushing, rhythmic murmur. It sounded like a waterfall, but controlled and regular, almost musical.
Ileni struggled with herself for a moment—she was so tired of the condescending looks her questions always elicited—but curiosity won out. “What’s that?”
The corners of Evin’s lips curled up. “You’ll see.”
“Or you could just—” Ileni began, then stopped. Behind Evin, a wiry figure darted between two buildings and out of sight.
She stood frozen, staring at the space between the buildings. An ornate, heavily warded carriage pulled in front of the spot where the figure had disappeared, then rolled on. The space was dark and still. If someone was lurking within it, she couldn’t tell.
“I know you’re not familiar with our customs,” Arxis said. “But if you want to stop and stare at nothing, the middle of the street is not the best place to do it.”
Ileni tried to breathe. There were plenty of thin young men in the capital. There might be some who moved with that sinuous grace. She had only seen that sort of swift, flowing movement among the assassins; but obviously, she hadn’t seen much in her life.
And she had been daydreaming about Sorin so often, it was no wonder she was imagining glimpses of him.
Arxis was leaning back, watching the street. If he had seen anything, he was hiding it well. Of course, if he had seen anything, he
would
be hiding it well.
“Sorry,” Ileni muttered, and started walking again. She looked around carefully as they made their way down the street, less overwhelmed by the sheer number of people now that she was looking for a single one. But she saw no hint of that familiar form, that swift liquid movement.
When Evin stopped in front of a high black wall surrounding some sort of compound, she forced herself to stop looking. It probably hadn’t been Sorin at all. And she should be glad it wasn’t—it would mean nothing good if Sorin was here.
She wanted to see him so badly she didn’t care.
Evin put one hand on the black wall and murmured a short spell. A surge of power almost knocked Ileni over, and then the wall shimmered and vanished, and she could see right through it to the source of the rushing sound.
All thoughts of Sorin fled her mind as she gaped. Arcs of white spray rose from a flat pool of black water, twisting back and forth in sync with each other, swaying and rising and falling. White mist rose to fill the spaces between the columns of water, and then vanished, in perfect harmony.
“Beautiful, isn’t it?” Evin said.
“Yes,” Ileni breathed. “How—”
“It was made back in the days of conquest, when we took power from captured enemies. They say the high sorceress killed ten thousand enemy soldiers to create these fountains.”
She blinked at him, then at the water, so clear and elegant. And still so beautiful.
She remembered the cavern of stone pillars in the
Assassins’ Caves, and the Elders’ warning:
Parts of the caves are very beautiful, but don’t let that distract you from the evil within them
.
“Back in the days?” she said finally. “So you don’t do it anymore?”
Evin gave her a horrified look, which made her bristle. “It wasn’t our proudest moment. That particular high sorceress was somewhat . . . excessive.”
“And also,” Arxis said, “they ran out of captured enemies. One of the downsides of having conquered almost everything in sight.”
Ileni glanced at him, startled; that seemed like an unwise thing to say. But Evin, of course, just laughed. As Arxis must have known he would.
“What is this place?” Ileni said.
“A home for orphans.” Evin gestured at the bland, dust-colored stone building behind the dancing fountains. “The Sisters of the Black God run it.”
How many colors of gods were there? Once again, Ileni was overwhelmed by how much she didn’t know. The compound was large, but at least half of it was taken up by the fountains. That building couldn’t possibly hold all the orphans in the city. How did they decide who got to live in it and who ended up starving on the street?
“All right,” Evin said. “If you want, I can meet you—”
A wordless shriek pierced the fountain’s music, and a tiny form barreled past the water and threw itself at Evin.
Ileni flung out an instinctive shield, using much of the magic she had pulled in before they left. The shield shot across the space between her and Evin, shimmering white, and enveloped a . . . child. A small, broad-cheeked, brown-haired boy, who struggled for a moment, with his arms and legs thrashing, then shouted an insult and repelled the spell back at her.
The backlash sent Ileni staggering into the street. She collided with a large man, who swore in a language she didn’t recognize and shoved her. Still dizzy, Ileni pitched onto the cobblestones, landing on her hands and knees.
Arxis laughed, longer and harder than was really necessary. So did a couple of passersby. Suddenly, being an unknown didn’t seem like quite such a terrible fate. Ileni scrambled to her feet, cheeks burning.
The boy who had undone her spell was on his feet, glaring at her. He looked almost exactly like Evin: deep brown eyes, jutting chin, unruly tufts of hair, all in a rounder, softer, smaller version of Evin’s face. The main difference was the complete seriousness with which he stared her down.
Ileni tried to think of something to say and came up with nothing better than, “I’m sorry.”
The boy glared at her. He couldn’t have been older than five or six. “You’re not supposed to use magic on people for no reason.”
“I thought you were . . . uh . . . attacking Evin.”
She braced herself for a
why?
that she would have no answer for. Instead the boy tilted his head to the side and said, “I wasn’t.
This
time.”
“Er—” Ileni said.
“He didn’t hurt me, so I won’t hurt him.”
“Don’t be so sure you
could
hurt me,” Evin said, grinning. “Training matters more than raw power, Girad.”
“Got it,” Arxis said. “You can hurt him more than he can hurt you. Probably. Now, if we can move past this tender brotherly moment—”
Evin’s hand closed around Girad’s, and the little boy screwed up his face. “Is
she
coming with us?”
“I expect not,” Evin said. “I think you scared her off.”
Girad threw his head back and laughed. It was so like Evin that Ileni blinked, but there was something different in the pure delight that pealed from him, in the unself-conscious glee on his face. She had thought Evin was
completely carefree, but she had been wrong.
This
was what carefree looked like.
Girad’s laugh trailed off into a series of uncontrollable giggles. Evin tousled his hair.
Ileni transferred her gaze to Arxis, who was watching Evin and Girad with patient boredom. When he caught her stare, he returned it blankly, as if he had no idea what she wanted from him.