It had been a fine day, despite its inelegant start. Garvesh and Khalim had performed admirably, and the Iron Mountain team had maintained its lead. Aysulu would compete the next day, in the contests of skill, and she was confident that she would carry the day. Among the warriors assembled here, only the Tribe of the Lion and the Wolf had any reputation for horse archery. It would be a good test of her abilities before the time when she would face them on a real battlefield.
She found Jin facing a stand weighed down with dumplings, each filled with meat and spices. He pored over them, brows furrowed, as though they held some great mystery that he was required to puzzle out.
“The beef ones are better,” Aysulu said, coming up beside him.
Jin looked up with a start. “Ah. Thank you.” He gestured to the tray of dumplings on the left and held up two fingers. The cook set a pair of the pastries on a broad leaf and handed them across the counter.
“Your poetry was well-delivered,” Aysulu told him. “I quite liked it.”
Jin bowed. “Thank you. I’m afraid it was not as well-received as I would have preferred, but I earned us some points. Are you enjoying the festivities?”
“Well enough,” Aysulu said. “The city seems happy. I would not have guessed there was a riot only a few days ago.”
“I heard that the former guild leader is still within these walls, and the guard has yet to find her.”
Aysulu pretended to be interested in the dumplings. “Wherever did you hear that?” she asked, her tone light and innocent.
“My companion Hualing was speaking to the owner of the Flower of the Mountain this morning,” he said. “Would you happen to know anything about that?”
Could she trust Jin? She liked him, and he seemed an honest sort, which was why she was reluctant to tell him the truth. She could not risk him placing the law of the Ascended above the cause of the miners, and risk her and her team’s safety and their chances at winning the sword. “No, I’m afraid I don’t,” she said, though she regretted the lie. “We were hired by the new guild leader.”
“I see,” said Jin. He studied her with a scrutinizing look, the same one he had given the stand of dumplings.
She thought he would press her further, but he did not. “I should return to my companions. Thank you for your advice,” he said, indicating his portion of food. With a bow, he added, “I hope your evening is pleasant.”
Aysulu returned the gesture. “Of course.”
She took two dumplings for herself, and set about wandering the streets outside the arena. The banners in their many hues fluttered briskly in the wind, and the crowd flowed around the food carts like a slow, shallow river. She pulled out of the surge of people, looking for a quiet place to eat her supper before returning to the house for the night, and nearly ran headlong into the princess of House Darela.
Roshani was tall, her back straight and her head high, elegant as the statues of the Ascended beside their thrones. Some of her long hair had escaped its plait, and curled around the graceful angles of her face.
“You’re Aysulu, from the miners’ guild?” she said.
“I am,” Aysulu answered. Roshani was alone—where was her escort? What was she doing among the rabble?
“I need to speak with you. Somewhere quiet.”
Aysulu frowned, looking the noblewoman up and down. If this were a trick, it was surely the strangest one she had ever encountered. Curiosity proved stronger than caution, and she said, “I’ll follow you.”
Roshani led her to a doorway a street away from the crowded market. The shop behind it was empty, the workers having moved their wares closer to the arena for the tournament, and only a few townsfolk walked this road, coming to and from the festivities.
“So, my lady, what could a poor traveler do for you?” Aysulu asked.
“The other houses have begun to shun House Darela,” Roshani explained. “They gave me no acknowledgement at the contests, and now they are turning from me and from my brother. I have seen this happen before. The Seven were displeased with one of the houses, and soon after that the entire family all disappeared, leaving their manor empty and their lands to grow fallow. I fear their eyes are already on me.”
“Your guards would be a better help than I would,” Aysulu protested.
“I need a place to hide, just for tonight. To keep the Serpents from catching me on the way back to our estate.” She took Aysulu’s hand between both of her own. “Please.”
Aysulu sighed. Roshani seemed so desperate and so sincere, and her hands were so soft. It occurred to her to inquire about the mysterious Serpents, but the thought fled as soon as it appeared. Aysulu recovered her wits long enough to ask, “What about the rest of your team?”
“My brother has already returned to warn the rest of our house,” Roshani said. “I am afraid the Ascended will want to make an example of me. If I return home by the secret ways, they will surely follow me and discover them. I must go somewhere they will not think to look.”
“I know of a safe place,” said Aysulu. “Come with me. Keep your eyes open for anyone following us.”
It was after midnight, and after the sacrifices to the Ascended had been made in the arena, that Jin ventured outside of the walls and into the slums. There were no lights here, as there were around the arena and here and there throughout the city. Other than the waning moon, the only light came from the tavern dug into the earth, where a few sputtering candles sat in the open windows.
The wooden soles of Jin’s sandals sunk into the mud as he walked, and he kept one hand on the sword tucked into his sash. He wished he had brought a lantern.
The tavern was smoky, and not much brighter than the night outside. Patrons huddled around the rickety tables, sharing tankards of something that looked foul and smelled no better. Jin removed his straw hat and looked around.
A woman sat at a table in the corner alone, her deep hood pulled down over her face, so that only her full lips and strong chin were visible. The other patrons watched Jin as he crossed the taproom and sat down across from her.
“It’s not often we see an arena champion here,” the woman said. “This festival is proving to be full of surprises.”
“I’m looking for someone,” said Jin.
She cocked her head to one side under her hood. “And who might that be?”
“Reva, the former leader of the miners’ guild.”
Her lips twisted into a sardonic smile, and her hand moved under the table, reaching for a weapon. “And what would you do if you found her?”
Jin knew then that he already had. He bowed slightly from his seated position, and kept his hands away from his sword. “I would tell her that her plan endangers her people needlessly.”
“What makes you say that?” Reva asked.
“Look around you,” said Jin. “These people are not warriors. The Ascended and their soldiers will cut them down like grain for the harvest. Those that do not die will suffer terribly.”
“How do you know this? I already have one mad prophet; I don’t need another.” Reva pushed her hood back with one hand, and her face was illuminated by the dim candlelight. “They already suffer terribly. It is easy for you, a stranger, to say what they can and cannot tolerate. You do not know the conditions they live under. You do not work alongside them in the mines.”
“That is true. If I had two score or more warriors to lend you, I would fight beside you and your people, but I have only myself and three others. Your campaign is hopeless. I would not see innocent people slaughtered.”
“It is better to die than to continue toiling in servitude,” Reva said, “to watch our brothers suffocate in the mines, our sisters succumb to disease, and our children starve. You do not know what you are asking of me—of all of us. Go back to the city, stranger.”
Jin folded his hands together on the tabletop. “I cannot. Not in good conscience, without convincing you that I tell the truth. Many of your people were already killed in the riot. The guards will not show mercy.”
“You will not convince me,” Reva declared. “There is much you do not know, and you are so very confident in your ignorance. Leave this place, stranger, before I have you thrown out.”
He stood, but he did not move toward the door. “Then tell me what it is I don’t know. I want to understand.”
“Do you?” Reva asked, disbelief ringing in her voice. “If you are genuine in that desire, then, I will show you. Meet me here again at dawn. Perhaps under the light of day, you will see why we must fight.”
She stood as well, and continued, “Be warned—if you bring the city watch, I will know, and you will never see me again.”
Jin bowed deeply. “You have my word.”
“At dawn. Until then, farewell.”
Jin ventured out again before the sun came up, and as morning came he saw the slums as they truly were, without the cover of darkness. A line of men, backs bent, made their way down the path from the mountain. One fell, collapsing in the dust, and the others only slowed and did not stop to help him.
Reva was waiting outside the tavern, her face concealed by her hood. “I didn’t know if you were truly going to come,” she said. “Welcome to my humble home.”
“Are those men coming from the mine?” Jin asked.
Reva turned her head, her jaw set grimly. “Yes.”
“Why? What were they doing there? They are not required to work during the Cerean Festival, are they? And at night?”
“You have much to learn about Phyreios, stranger,” Reva said.
“My name is Jin.”
“By decree of the Ascended, the mine’s gates are closed, and the great forge is at rest,” she continued. “But if one does not work, one is not paid—and one’s family does not eat. As an act of charity, it is permitted for those in need to continue working through the festival, though it must be done in secret, in the dark, so the festivities are not disturbed. Many will be injured, and still more will grow ill from overwork.”
Jin watched the miners return, slow and weary, and their hovels accept them. A few walked with pronounced limps. They pushed aside the ragged curtains in their doorways with hands that had lost fingers, or wrists that were missing hands. Children had emerged from their houses, and some played a simple game in the muddy streets, but the rest were listless, their eyes hollow and their bellies distended. Still others darted into the shadows to make their way to the city: pickpockets, Jin guessed. He smelled no cooking fires. There was food to be had at the arena, offered freely for the festival, but how many of the people here were able to make their way halfway across the city? After some time, he noticed smoke on the air, but it was thin and and the scents it carried were rancid.
“What do you intend to do?” he asked Reva.
“My plans are already in motion. All I need now is the Sword of Heaven—and I need a figurehead.”
Jin turned to her. “What do you mean?”
“I told you I already had a mad prophet. After yesterday, I’m more certain than ever that the people will follow him.”
“Yesterday?” Realization struck him and he said, “Khalim!”
“There’s a reason we are doing this now, and not waiting to recover our strength,” Reva said. “He has seen the fall of Phyreios, and it is coming very soon. We can prevent it if we act quickly.”
“My point still stands,” said Jin. “These people cannot fight.”
“We have no other choice.”
Jin took a step away from her, and he bowed once more, his back parallel to the muddy earth. “Then, I pledge that I and my companions will fight with you. We are few, but we are well-trained. If there is any aid we can give you, we will.”
When he stood, Reva held out her hand. “I will hold you to your word, Jin.”
He took the offered hand and shook it. “I should return to the arena.”
Reva nodded. “I will be seeing you again soon.”
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