Page 71 of Eyes of Kings
Bibi and Yilas both turn to Chami abruptly. Where Yilas appears surprised, Bibi keeps her expression neutral, her head tilting. Her overgrown bangs shift along the side of her face.
“The Crescent Societies were right to exercise caution,” Chami says. “They should continue to do so, even with a block in place. What sigil can they be using to enforce it? Godling of absence? God of barriers? It will not take much to blow those apart.”
Bibi grins, as if there is something funny about that.
“The Crescent Societies have been bastardizing sigils since they discovered them,” she says, “but in this they’re finally treating them as a language to wield. It will be fine. They are continuously repairing the sigils.”
But Bibi doesn’t understand. Yilas will not either. They are only mortal at the end of the day, and what they have seen of this world is limited to that scope.
“We’re not supposed to have such power,” Chami says, and her voice tapers into a rasp. “That was the agreement when we fled down here. We needed to understand what we were trading.”
Because other members of the pantheon were never as sensible as Chami. There have been plenty who have lost their minds over the decades. Fed up with their new role in the world. Unhappy with their lot and their luck.
Who will they become when their qi returns to them?
A beep sounds from Bibi’s belt. She glances down, and whatever comes through the pager must need her attention, because her mouth twists.
“I have to run,” she says, maneuvering Mao Mao onto one elbow so she can press the top of the pager with her free hand. “Do you need anything?”
“Of course not,” Yilas says, huffing, but Bibi doesn’t seem to take offense to her tone.
Bibi turns to go. Strolls out through the door, and as her steps are clicking away, her voice wafts back, greeting, “Hello. I’ve never seen you around.”
“Matiyu Nuwa, pleasure to meet you,” Matiyu’s voice echoes.
Yilas mutters, “Finally,” and stands. “Matiyu, getinhere.”
He pokes his head into the infirmary. It hasn’t been long since Chami last saw him, but he looks thinner, tired. His arm hangs from a sling around his neck, the fabric resembling one of his shirts. He’s holding a small box in his other hand.
“Yes, I gave them the material,” he says before Chami can ask. “They wanted to charge me extra for a sling. Ridiculous.”
“We’re going,” Yilas announces. “Chami, are you all right to walk?”
Chami nods. Her legs feel weak, but not out of action. She swings them over the side of the bed, testing her strength. The floor is ice-cold on her feet.
“I was going to call the hospital in a panic if you took any longer to get here,” Yilas hisses at Matiyu. She passes him a bag that she’s prepared and Matiyu glances around, his one free hand already occupied by the small box. “And whatisthat?” she snaps.
“I’m only late because I got caught up negotiating with Woya. Look.”
Matiyu flips the box, opening the lid. Chami leans in. She can’t quite make sense of the tubelike object nestled inside until she sniffs, and matches the harsh scent to the black powder scattered at the bottom of the box.
“I’d forgotten what firearms looked like,” she remarks.
“It’s a pretty rudimentary hand cannon,” Matiyu says. “Obviously there aren’t enough weapons hidden away in the vaults, so the Crescents started to make their own from repurposed metal that the factories discarded. They call this one the Asp. See how the top part looks like—”
“What are you doing taking weapons from the Crescent Societies?” Yilas interrupts.
“Iboughtthis.”
“Oh, great. Even better. There’s a weapons black market in the palace.”
“Without Kasa or August around, it’s technically just a market,” Chami observes.
Yilas gives her a dull glance to signal that she’s not helping. Chami smiles, and Yilas softens. Meanwhile, Matiyu flips the lid back onto the box.
“Better to be prepared if another divine being crashes through the wall,” he says. “Wouldn’t you agree?”
Chami supposes she has no argument there. She eases onto her feet, slowly. Her body does not sway. She is steady.
