Chapter Fifteen #2
Altair, who couldn’t care less about reading, groaned and complained at my side until I finally snapped. Now, he sat there, so focused he didn’t seem to notice the way Death nibbled on his sweater from her place on his lap.
“What are you making?” I asked, bending the corner of my page to mark my spot. His knife stilled, his eyes meeting mine.
“A wooden sculpture.”
“Really? I thought it was a pancake.” He rolled his eyes, looking back down at the wood and beginning again. “I mean what are you carving?”
“Murder.”
“Death.”
“That’s a ridiculous name, Little Void.”
“Says the snake who just called me Little Void.”
“If I’m a snake, then you’d better not come any closer. We tend to bite.” A smirk lifted his left cheek as he leaned back in the wooden chair, continuing to carve.
Just to spite him, I stood and walked up to the table, sitting across from him and letting the book fall onto the wooden surface. “So, here’s what I’m thinking—“
“I thought we weren’t doing any planning until after the meeting.”
“Who said I was planning anything?”
Fingers stilling, he looked up at me from between his long, pale lashes. Scoffing, I opened the book to the page I’d marked and pointed.
“This isn’t even a real plan. I just think it can be useful to know.”
“You think all knowledge is useful.”
“I take that as a compliment.”
“Don’t. If everything is useful, then nothing is. That’d be like deciding every man or woman you meet is worth your affection. Eventually, your affection ceases to mean anything.”
“That’s a ridiculous analogy. Especially because no one is worth my affection.”
“Sure, Tershetta. Now what is it you’re plotting?”
“You’re such an aggravating person. Do you know that?
” Despite my insult, Altair didn’t so much as flinch.
His hands were steady as he again worked on what I assumed were Death’s ears, the wood beginning to take on shape.
Relenting, I said, “Fine. I think we’re looking at Commander Maitoza from the wrong angle.
In this text, the author specifically mentions that the final world war began with a fight over resources.
If we view what’s to come in the same way, then what are the core families fighting for? ”
“That’s easy, power.”
“No, other than power. Everyone wants that. What has them actually pushing to take control of the eadi? Why do they want to enslave them?”
He looked at me for a few moments, clearly thinking over his answer. “They want labor.”
“Exactly!” I said, snapping as I leaned forward.
“Eadi do nearly all of the manual labor needed to obtain valuable resources. All of our gold, food, livestock, cities, villages, and goods come from eadi hands. If the shaytan take control, then they can continue to force eadi to do the hard work. To be the foundation. That way, the shaytan can have the time and energy to entertain the stars. Their children and their grandchildren and their entire family line will continue to get magic, all while preventing eadi from even asking the stars. It perpetuates the elitism and cycle. The poor and magicless are held down by the rich and powerful. That’s why they’re moving into the eadi districts. ”
“Okay, yes.” Altair nodded, his brows pulled together as he leaned forward too. “That makes sense. So then we need to find out what the rebellion wants.”
“The rebellion is easy.” I waved my hand, letting my arms fall onto the table.
“The eadi want freedom and choice. They want peace and happiness. All the things they can’t have much of now.
The shaytan who join want the same thing in a different way.
Freedom to be whatever and whoever they want without being put into the box society has crafted for each of us.
But what does Maitoza want? Beyond power, I mean. ”
Every part of his face lifted, mouth, nose, and brows rising. “Honestly? I don’t know.”
“Exactly. I don’t know either. That’s what we need to figure out at that meeting.” I let myself fall back into the chair, pursing my lips as I thought.
“Okay,” he said, leaning back as well.
“What do you mean okay? Aren’t you a strategist? Come up with a strategy to get answers.”
“Ah, so you want me to do all the work.”
“Well I already did the heavy lifting.”
“Touche.” He chuckled, twirling the chunk of wood in his hands. “I’m sorry, Tershetta.”
“For what? Being good at whittling? Don’t be. I’ve come to expect you to be good at everything.” I laughed too, but his face had fallen, softening into something too serious for the moment.
“For everything I said to you. All the things I did. Every bad thought I had.” His face sagged further, lids closing halfway as his lips turned down. Once again, the room had grown heavy. “I’m sorry for being a part of it all.”
“What were you supposed to do, Altair?” I asked, sighing.
“I don’t know.” He hesitated, shaking his head and tugging his bottom lip into his mouth. “Be better.”
Stars, I wasn’t equipped for such a conversation. I wasn’t sure I ever would be. All I could think to say was, “You’re doing better now. Maybe that’s enough.”
“Or maybe no amount of apologies will make up for what I’ve done.”
“Or, get this, your depressing pity party is unnecessary and unhelpful,” I said, rubbing my aching head. “Stop being weird and sad and just help me. The only path is forward. Both of us could use that reminder.”
“Fine,” he conceded, looking away to continue whittling. “But I am sorry.”
“For what it’s worth, I accept your apology. Now shut up and help me plan.”