“I’ll manage.” Ignoring the pain, Keris followed him up the ladder to the midpoint of the cliff face, then down the narrow scaffolding running along it. The wood swayed and moved, and Keris caught hold of the rope railing, the ground abruptly feeling far away.
Arjun wasn’t wrong that Keris had made promises that he might not be able to deliver upon. Zarrah
“Unlike you to be troubled by heights,” Zarrah said softly from behind him. “I’m sure it’s quite secure.”
secure either her defeat or surrender. Even after the losses Maridrina had taken in Ithicana, he had the He opened his mouth to deny the flicker of fear in his gut, but instead found himself saying, “It was Otis’s fall. The sound of—” He broke off, discomfited. “I’ve yet to regain my comfort with heights.”
Zarrah was quiet as they climbed another ladder, but then she said, “I can’t tolerate a certain rhythm of dripping water. Though it was a decade ago, the sound takes me right back to when my mother’s blood was dripping down on me. Fills me with the same terror.”
His father would have made them do it. Would have put the fear of refusal so deep in their guts that She’d never told him that before.
Keris glanced over his shoulder, but her eyes were on the boards of the scaffolding.
“The mind clings to unexpected things,” she said, brow furrowed. “Sights. Sounds. Smells. But not always in a bad way.” The corner of her mouth quirked up, and he fixated on the curve of it, the deadly drop beneath them forgotten as he mused over what she might be remembering.
Arjun stepped off the scaffolding and into a cave entrance, where the ceiling was low enough that Keris had to bend to keep from knocking his head. Rather than dampness, his nose picked up the faint scent of woodsmoke and cooking, the stone beneath his feet dry.
“It’s an extensive network of caves,” Zarrah’s father said. “We have worked hard to keep its existence hidden, though with the increased pressure from the Usurper’s soldiers, I’m not certain it will be safe much longer.”
“The civilians supply you?” Zarrah asked, and her father grunted an affirmative.
“They give up what they can. It’s a safer way to support the cause than to pick up arms or raise their voices. Too many who have done the latter have been murdered in their homes or sent to Devil’s Island, and they’re afraid. Yet the Usurper knows that they are our backbone, and she punishes them.
Young people conscripted from Arakis are sent to the worst locations, most lost to battle, accident, or disease within a year. We know it is purposeful, but it’s impossible to prove, and anyone who speaks aloud about it disappears, while those known to support her are granted trade licenses and given choice contracts with the crown.”
“Subversive,” Keris muttered, and Arjun nodded.
“Petra has never been able to tolerate criticism, so she finds clever ways to harm that cannot be traced to her. But let us not tarnish this moment with talk of our enemy. Valcotta is rising, and this is a moment to celebrate!”
The sound of drums and pipes softly echoed down the tunnel, growing louder as they progressed, as did the faint murmur of chatter and laughter of many people. Then the tunnel opened into a large chamber.
Lamps of colored Valcottan glass dangled from the roof, casting a rainbow of light over what appeared to be a communal dining hall. There were many of the low tables the Valcottans favored, cushions and furs used as padding against the stone floor. The tables were laden with jugs of ale and glass decanters of wine, as well as platters of food. Braziers were scattered around the space, the heat putting warmth into Keris’s fingers, which had been numbed by the cold. The drummer and the pipe player paused, and heads turned, everyone falling silent.
“This is a moment for celebration,” Arjun roared, “for tomorrow, we make plans to march to war!”
Zarrah hesitated, then pressed into the chamber, pouring herself a glass of ale. Holding it up high, The rebel commander led Keris and Zarrah to a ladder that reached up to the scaffolding. “Can you she said, “I lift my glass to all of you, who have fought so tirelessly and against every odd. Together, we will remake a better Valcotta!”
The rebels all lifted their glasses and roared, “To the True Empress!”
“To the True Empress,” Keris murmured, taking a sip from the glass Saam had pushed into his hand, only to nearly gag on the sweetness. “Is this syrup?”
Saam laughed. “Fortified wine, Your Grace. Will put hair on your chest, and soon you’ll look like me!” The rebel lifted his shirt, revealing a chest that boasted a full carpet of dark hair.
“You put me to shame, my friend,” Keris answered, though his eyes had moved back to Zarrah. Her father had joined her and was escorting her around the chamber, introducing her to his following. Her eyes were bright, the grin on her face authentic and more full of joy than he’d seen in longer than he could remember. Surrounded not just by her people, but by individuals who shared her vision, her dream. Who would help her see it become reality.
Taking another sip of the sweet wine, Keris leaned back against the cavern wall, watching her own the moment. Saam joined him, a bottle in hand, which he used to refill Keris’s glass. “How long will you stay?” the rebel asked.
Forever, was the first thought that came to Keris’s mind, but he pushed it away. “I’ll stay until we have the basis of a plan, an idea of timing, and then I’ll need to return to Maridrina.”
Saam nodded, then took a mouthful directly from the bottle. “You really believe that your people will fight for us?”
The sweet wine turned sour in Keris’s stomach, because that was the question this entire venture depended on. The war between the nations had gone on for so long that it had become a way of life, the enmity his people felt toward Valcottans ingrained in their bones. To ask his army to march into Valcotta not as raiders but as allies would require them to set aside those feelings, which would not be easily done. “If they see that it is in their best interests. The war takes as much of a toll on Maridrina as it does on Valcotta. Endless lives lost to back-and-forth raids that net nothing of value, their voices. Too many who have done the latter have been murdered in their homes or sent to Devil’s much of the country going hungry as people fear to farm the best lands north of Nerastis. Peace would bring prosperity and a better future, and that is what I need to make them see.”
Young people conscripted from Arakis are sent to the worst locations, most lost to battle, accident, or
“Do you think they will?”
“Who can say?” Keris drained his glass. “The war has been reduced to a simmer in recent years, contained to the territory around Nerastis, rather than the all-out conflict that occurred in the past when whole armies and navies collided. The cost of those battles has faded in memory, become less visceral, especially in comparison to recent battles with Ithicana. If there were ever a time to push for peace, now is it.”
Saam made a noise of agreement, and they stood in silence. Keris could feel the eyes of the rebels on him, curious but unwilling to approach. Though he knew that he should be putting in some effort to charm them, he didn’t move from the wall, content to watch Zarrah in her element. She laughed at something a woman said to her, and though the room was loud with noise, it was all Keris heard.