“Seemed like. I didn’t stick around.”
“Go back and get close enough to listen.”
The girl disappeared, and Zarrah pressed her fingers to her temples. Keris could see her coming up with strategies, only to cast them aside as more information filtered in about what they faced, but he said nothing. Only stood at her side, waiting. Waiting for a moment that he prayed would come.
“Welran helped train me,” Zarrah finally said, lifting her face to look Keris in the eye. “Half of what I know came from him, and the other half from her, which means he knows it just as well. If it
comes down to battle, we won’t win. But we can’t wait for the commander to learn what is happening and bring reinforcements, if he’ll even choose to do so.”
Keris was very confident, given the risks the commander had taken to free Zarrah from Devil’s Island, that he wouldn’t abandon her now, but he also suspected that securing enough soldiers for an outright attack against Welran wasn’t the solution she was looking for. Suspected that she wasn’t looking for a solution at all, but rather for confidence in the one she’d already come up with. “I once heard a wise woman say to a little girl that not all battles are won with fists and swords. Some are won with words and a clever head.”
Zarrah smiled, and it was like seeing the woman he’d fallen in love with rising from the ashes, scarred but stronger for it. “I have a plan.”
“Agreed.” Every inhalation filled Keris’s nose with the scent of her, lavender soap from her time in
“I counted sixty,” the girl answered. “Most are holding back the crowd of onlookers. Ain’t going to fighters are here with me and that I’ll come in force. He knows I like to fight from the high ground and The girl disappeared, and Zarrah pressed her fingers to her temples. Keris could see her coming up
comes down to battle, we won’t win. But we can’t wait for the commander to learn what is happening and bring reinforcements, if he’ll even choose to do so.”
Keris was very confident, given the risks the commander had taken to free Zarrah from Devil’s Island, that he wouldn’t abandon her now, but he also suspected that securing enough soldiers for an outright attack against Welran wasn’t the solution she was looking for. Suspected that she wasn’t looking for a solution at all, but rather for confidence in the one she’d already come up with. “I once heard a wise woman say to a little girl that not all battles are won with fists and swords. Some are won with words and a clever head.”
Zarrah smiled, and it was like seeing the woman he’d fallen in love with rising from the ashes, scarred but stronger for it. “I have a plan.”
“THIS IS A mad plan,” Daria hissed in her ear as they wove through the streets toward the
sound of the crowd. “It has Keris’s influence written all over it, and please keep in mind that his last plan did not go at all as he intended.”
“It’s my plan,” Zarrah answered, pulling the hood of her cloak more firmly in place. What Keris had influenced was her. Though influenced was a loaded word, for it implied a level of control. A form of manipulation. What Keris had really done was remind Zarrah not just of who she was, but of who she wanted to be. And who she wanted to be was a woman who had more tools at her disposal than just the weapon in her hand and the violence in her heart. “I’d say blame me if it all goes to shit, but I expect that will mean all of us are dead.”
“Oh, that’s comforting,” Daria said. “Motivational speaking at its finest.”
“That’s why I’m here and Keris is giving the speeches.”
“Don’t get me wrong, the man could talk his way out of hell itself, but do you really think this will work? Because I’m going to be angry if I fought my own way out of hell only to die because of a half-cocked plan.”
Zarrah ground to a halt, catching hold of the other woman’s arms. “No one has to do this. Not you, not anyone in your tribe. You’ve made that clear to them?”
“Yeah, they know. They agreed to it.” Daria pulled free and started walking. “We’ll see if they keep their nerve in the moment.”
Zarrah bit the insides of her cheeks, because she had the same concern about herself. A growing fear that when it came to it, she wouldn’t be able to allow others to take the risk and would leap into the fray. While many would call it bravery, in her heart, she knew it was because watching someone else suffer on her behalf was worse than enduring the hurt herself. It was a sort of cowardice, and not one a leader could afford. She needed to be able to trust her comrades. Needed to give them a chance to prove themselves, which was something Daria and her tribe desperately needed as well.
The noise of the crowd grew louder, people shouting, some angry and some pleading, but faintly, above cries of civilians, she heard sobs of pain.
And Welran’s familiar bellow.
“You have brought this upon yourselves,” he shouted as she and Daria reached the rear of the onlookers. “Long has Arakis hidden the villains who wish harm upon Her Most Gracious Imperial Majesty. Villains who conspired with Maridrina to unleash the demons of Devil’s Island upon Valcotta. Who split and weaken our defenses so that the rats in the north might descend upon us, slaughtering our people and orphaning our children. And to what end? What good has the commander and his band of mercenaries done for you? You hide them, feed them, arm them, and all they bring is suffering.”
A shrill scream filled the air, and Zarrah’s fists clenched as, through the crowd, she caught sight of one of the soldiers holding a hot iron to the foot of a young man. “Where is the commander?” the soldier demanded. “Where is his stronghold?”
“I don’t know,” the man screamed. “I swear it! I don’t know! I don’t know!”
“You were caught painting rebel propaganda on a building,” the soldier shouted. “We know you are one of them! Confess, and your life will be spared!”
“I don’t know where they are!” His pleas turned to screams again as flesh sizzled, and next to her, Daria sucked in a breath before whispering, “He doesn’t know. Only a select few do, by necessity.”
Given that not even Daria knew the commander’s current location, Zarrah didn’t doubt her words.
The crowd was growing, some brave enough to scream demands that Welran cease this horror, that he release those being tortured, but none moved against the spears and swords of the imperial guard holding the perimeter. They were too afraid, too aware that the soldiers would kill them if pressed, but beneath their fear, Zarrah sensed their anger was rising.
“Someone knows!” Welran shouted. “Someone in this crowd has the power to end this man’s
suffering. Your friend. Your neighbor. Your brother. Anyone could be one of them, and that makes them the cause of this moment. Reveal the truth and we can end this! We can turn our sights on the commander who has caused this!”
“You caused this,” someone shouted. “You are the one torturing your own people! You’re the one burning the homes of anyone who refuses to kiss Petra’s ass!” The crowd roared their agreement, the air reeking of anger and distress, but those who shoved at the soldiers were knocked back with the butts of spears and the flats of blades.