Page 40 of Eyes of Kings

Bibi nods. She seems relieved to be excused. Her steps are soft along the passage, echoing until she hits the door at the end, and then a loud slam takes her through, into the palace proper.

In her absence, Calla and Anton stay put. Their eyes meet. One bulb on the wall ripples blue-white, casting their faces in a pallor. There is something about their conversation with Bibi that has left Calla unsettled. She can’t put her finger on it.

The first thing the elders did was show me his letters. They hoped I could follow in his footsteps.

“What are you thinking?” Anton asks.

Calla snaps out of her reverie. There will be time to unravel this later.

“That we need to plan fast,” she says. “We’re losing San-Er.”

CHAPTER 18

The Crescents stand sentry in pouring rain.

They’re not guarding the twin cities. They are protecting it. There’s a difference. The temples must work together to mark the wall before the rain can ruin their work. It is difficult to distribute their numbers well when there are still attacks emerging in different parts of the capital.

The cleric, unfortunately, can smell the blood from where she stands, at the top of the wall. She hoped that the rain would blow away the metallic stench, but it has caused the opposite effect. Humidity has built a greenhouse around the wall. It reeks.

“You’ve been caught up?”

The voice comes from behind the cleric. She turns, calmly, resisting the urge to scan her surroundings in the same motion. The Crescent Societies have spent so long hiding from the establishment. It is strange indeed to be at the top.

“I have,” the cleric replies.

Their earlier attempt had momentary success. It didn’t last long. If they are to take power from San-Er—take it, and take it truly—they will need more than one sigil.

The second cleric nods. Looks over his shoulder. They are all like this. Too many years fearing the Weisannas banging on the doors of their temples. Toomany hurried evacuations from whatever meeting they had organized when the palace guard was on their front step.

How the tides have turned. Once qi is blocked in San-Er and its civilians lose the ability to jump, then they are each and all identical to Weisannas. Order is redefined. Power will be held in the hands of those possessing blades and gunpowder instead. And the Crescent Societies have everyone else bested on that count.

“It was a foolish move, you know.”

The cleric is aware. But she had wanted a look at August Shenzhi’s camp. At the Weisannas gathered there, in case there was some final opportunity for absolution. There wasn’t: she isn’t really sure what she expected. No more silver-eyed guards remain in San-Er, nor were any of them retainable in the Palace of Union. After the coup, the Weisannas chose to join August Shenzhi en masse. The Weisannas are indoctrinated to be docile to their royals, castrated of selfish instincts at birth. What better proof than their continued loyalty, even after an insurgency released them from noble hostage? How easy it would have been for any of them to slink into the twin cities with a stolen chain of gold to start their lives. To this day, the cleric has met merely one Weisanna in San-Er outside royal employment. Running an apothecary—and hiding her silver eyes as though there is something shameful about her abandonment.

“I suppose I trusted the princess more than any of you,” the cleric says.

“Casualties?”

Her breath is visible on her exhale. “Two. Their fight will be honored.”

“That is good of you. It would have been better had they never left San-Er.Thisis the jurisdiction we care about.”

“Yes,” she says. “You are correct.”

The Crescent Societies are concerned with ruling San-Er. Indeed, her temple should not have volunteered to partake in the fight beyond it.

It’s only that she loved a Weisanna, a long time ago. Back when she lived an ordinary life, or whatever could constitute as one in San. Schooled for enoughyears to secure a job in a newsroom when she was sixteen, do well enough for herself that she moved her mother into a better apartment. But with comfort comes new hunger. Her head craning when she shopped in San’s coliseum market, eyeing the Palace of Earth. Most in San-Er never had the opportunity to hunger. The palace did that on purpose.

For two years and five days, she existed in orbit to the Palace of Earth, meeting her lover at the gates and slipping off into the city. In dark bars, in busy diners, in hazy lounges. At the cliffs looking out into the sea, near this very wall watching the stars. Again and again, they ran the labyrinth of the capital, never tiring of what else there was to encounter, never going to the same place twice.

Two years and five days. That was how long they had together before he was killed on duty. The Palace of Earth didn’t care to tell her what happened, who he had been guarding, or what incident occurred. They didn’t respond to her phone calls. The surveillance room rotated through a list of councilmembers they directed her toward, all of whom were indifferent to her complaint. It was the nature of the palace. Those within its walls could not fathom the suffering of one woman outside.

Six months later, she was proved wrong when her son was born with silver eyes. Within an hour of his birth, he was taken away. He was a Weisanna, like his father, and so long as his bloodline determined him the property of the palace, then the palace could swoop in and take him for service. She cried and she cried outside one of the gates, until finally, the captain of the guard stepped out and barked at her for the incessant noise.Enough already, she said.You’re giving everyone a headache. Go home and sleep it off. If you’re still depressed, take it to the cliffs. Anywhere but the palace, all right?

What else could she do? If she didn’t move, they would haul her into a prison cell instead. Theydidunderstand her suffering—but they still didn’t care. As the decades passed, the cleric never gleaned any further information about her child, whether he was still alive, how he was named, what he was told. He may havedied in childhood. He may have been killed during some meaningless riot in adulthood. Or he could have survived longer than expected, only to be attacked by the Crescents marching on the palace, his life given in sacrifice during the takeover. Maybe she walked past his cooling corpse when she went to inspect the damage. After she joined the Crescent Societies, she stopped tracking the days since he was taken.

The other cleric says, “We are meeting soon to discuss the heretics. Are you coming?”