Chapter 3 #2
He doesn’t quite understand what role Bibi plays among these rebels. She’s the one who approached Calla about cooperating with them. She’s the one who went undercover in the Palace of Union to orchestrate their attacks. Yet she is not one of them.
Anton sits down, the bag of hard candy crinkling in his hand. He sets it onto the desk.
“I don’t think you’re hearing me,” he whispers, resuming their exchange.
“August hovers less than a day’s travel outside the wall.
When the Crescents solicited Calla to be their figurehead, it was because they knew it would take them time before truly securing the capital.
They have not recruited enough initiates.
They have not accessed the financial district yet.
If August succeeds with an attack right now, they’re fucked. ”
“He won’t succeed with an attack,” Bibi intones. “This is San-Er.”
Anton pinches her arm. “You are being so difficult.”
“It is the unconquerable stronghold for a reason.” Bibi whacks him away before he can pinch her again. “It is the playground for spies and scouts, but never has San-Er been hospitable to soldiers. Why would the Crescents worry?”
His sister turns to the computer then, tapping its side and waiting for the blue screen to wake up. Anton reaches into the bag of hard candy and crunches on a piece.
“How did you get in?” he asks.
The screen loads. Bibi’s fingers fly over the keyboard. “Killed a guard. Cried about it.”
“Before that.” Anton thought the candy would be sourer. Some part of his unconscious memory told him to brace for the taste more than he needed to. “I thought the Dovetail were leery of the twin cities and its horrible bureaucracy.”
“They are,” Bibi replies. “But then, one day, traders who recently departed Eigi brought news about the king’s games claiming Anton Makusa for a victim.
I fell at the feet of my elders and begged that, whatever the cost, the palace would pay for my dear big brother’s demise.
I needed to go back to the capital from which I was born. ”
Anton crunches on another piece of candy, his brow raised. It would be a sweet sentiment. More than anyone has ever cared about him. If it weren’t a load of hot shit.
“I’ve wanted to come back to San-Er for years, but there wasn’t a good excuse,” Bibi says after a beat.
“The elders consider our purpose to be the provinces. Our fight is in resisting the soldiers and the generals, not in the capital. It was only when unrest began in San-Er that the Dovetail thought it might finally be time to collaborate with the Crescents. I went in with the promise of storming the palace.”
“What a shock it must have been that I was alive after all,” Anton muses.
Bibi was only five when she was separated from Anton and pulled away to live an entirely different life. If his death was ever to serve as her motive, it is abstract before it is personal. The horror that the Shenzhis think themselves powerful enough to fell a line of Makusas.
“It sure makes my job harder,” Bibi deadpans. “After the Crescents stormed San-Er, I was supposed to go back to the Dovetail. I’ve had my fun in the urban labyrinth.”
“You can’t.” Anton doesn’t try to soften the demand. “We need you keeping them in check.”
Bibi taps a key. “We?” she echoes.
“Yes,” Anton replies. “I swore my loyalty to Calla.”
Her screen changes to show multiple video streams.
“As soon as the capital is stable,” Bibi returns, clicking around, “they will drive her out. I imagine you may spare yourself from her fate if you disavow her early.”
Anton shakes his head. “I am not trying to spare myself from her. She is mine whether her fate is in the palace or the grave.”
Bibi looks at him askance.
“Anton,” she says slowly, taking her hand off the keyboard.
He swishes the hard candy inside his mouth, and his sister is doing the same to her words, buffing down the harsh edges before she speaks them.
“I am afraid of being struck down by the old gods if I don’t revere the divine crown.
But I do not think you are as much a believer as I am.
I’m not sure I understand your resolve. It may get you killed a second time. ”
There’s some ruckus on the other side of the surveillance room, a Crescent issuing instructions to palace employees about rerouting the telephones. Connecting them to the watchtowers at the wall, which has stayed open since the takeover.
“I love her,” he says.
“You’re scared of her,” Bibi counters.