Page 37 of Eyes of Kings

They make a new turn, onto the main thoroughfare. Calla shifts to avoid a man pushing his stall. Then she falls back to allow a cluster of schoolchildren to pass, each of their wrists tied to one another so their teacher won’t lose a charge.

“I don’t understand,” Bibi says. She hurries forward, walking at Calla’s side. “The divine crown—”

“You warned us about qi being threatened in San-Er,” Calla interrupts. “What’s happening?”

Bibi’s jacket is too large for her. When she tugs at the zipper tape to wrap the two sides around her torso, they go all the way around, like the clerics’ robes.

“City dwellers are rising against the Crescents, what else?” Bibi mutters. Her eyes narrow for a moment, signaling that she’s observed the timing of Calla’s interruption, but she will let it slide. “It’s been an eventful night in San-Er. Five of the temples formed a syndicate and stormed the financial district. They’ve shut down the banks.”

“Ah,” Calla says immediately. “Er would not like that.”

“They did not. Not one bit.”

The city of Er was considered Calla’s people back when the Palace of Heavens stood. She knows the sort: the men who fancy themselves the next class after palace nobility, the families who send their children into the academies to rub shoulders with Weisannas and councilmember offspring.

“You didn’t stop them?” Calla asks.

Though she didn’t intend for the remark to be cutting, Bibi throws her a glare. “I would love to hear how you wanted me in the ears of five clerics at once. My seduction prowess only goes so far.”

“Ew,” Anton contributes from behind.

“I was under the impression you had more sway,” Calla replies, as sincerely as she is capable of sounding. Which isn’t easy. “Youledthe attack on the palace.”

“There were others who had infiltrated the palace too. Any one of us could have put the pieces in place,” Bibi counters. “I gave them the blueprints that my mother had drawn, yes, but I was under Tsosia’s wing facilitating the Shard Temple’s part. At best, I’m a prodigy who rose quickly through Crescent Society ranks. At worst, most Crescents see me as an aristocrat predestined to suffer my father’s fate the moment I tangle myself back with palace affairs.”

Calla grimaces. Suddenly the image of the Crescents eyeing Bibi at the gate seems less unusual. Each time she is spotted alongside Anton will worsen such an association, revising her from Dovetail insurgent into Calla’s enlisted foot soldier.

“My apologies,” Calla says.

Bibi shrugs. “Whatever. I didn’t intend to stay long in San-Er anyway after I got my fill. Even if the Crescents have primed the capital perfectly for people like me. They deleted every record of civilian identity numbers last night too.”

Calla stops dead in her step. “Heavens.”

Smoothly, Anton slides his arm around her shoulders when he catches up to her, keeping her moving.

“The riots around the wall only scattered about an hour ago,” Bibi continues, her voice low. “Many in San-Er do not care about these new changes. Their coins are kept under their mattresses. Their apartments are rentals. But there are also many who do. Many who lost their life savings overnight. Crescents are offering cash rewards to offset the fury. Trying to convince the financial district that this is for their own good. It’s only working for some of them.”

Bibi steps off the main thoroughfare and onto a narrow street, leading the way toward the Palace of Union. She chooses this route on purpose. There are several closer entrances to the palace, but it is along this street alley that Calla sights her first glimpse of what damage she missed, what chaos must have taken place as the Crescent Societies played their hand. One half of the building on the corner is… gone. Its walls are charred, its debris blocking pedestrian access. The building’s very innards are exposed, the lining between its four floors, the armchairs, the tables, the rugs that have been blighted in each apartment.

Slowly, Calla pulls the rag off her head, getting a better look without her vision obscured. A spark from one of the electric wires jolts and flies into the air, fizzling quickly from the trickling rain. Upon first glance, it is only overwhelming damage. Then Calla spots a hand. A foot, underneath a fallen television console.

“I’m afraid we have greatly underestimated how many heretics are hiding in the twin cities,” Bibi says.

“This is absurd,” Anton exclaims. “Even qi does not do this.”

“It does.” Bibi puts her hand over her forehead. She’s not blocking her eyes from the rain, but from flecks of ash, floating loose in the alley air. “I witnessed this myself.”

“God of fire,” Calla mutters under her breath.

Anton, hearing this, gives Calla an apprehensive look, but he doesn’t tell her she’s being ridiculous. He’s shaken too, despite the conviction they put behind their statement for the news, decrying each and every one of these heretics to be charlatans.

“I wasn’t warning you about the heretics in my note,” Bibi says. “I was warning you about the Crescent Societies. They want to block qi from the capital. There are sigils to do so. It’ll mean no more jumping, but also no more of these attacks. San-Er can’t tolerate any more. We’re going to reach utter collapse if the Crescents piss off another heretic who’s made their living bootlicking the palace.”

Calla’s gaze snaps up. She almost finds it hard to believe. Will the Crescent Societies block their own greatest weapon—the qi that helped them take the city, the sigils that grew their members into mighty weapons?

While she’s inspecting their surroundings, she doesn’t notice Bibi’s pause, but Anton does. He prompts, “What is it?”

“What?” Bibi returns.