Chapter 57 Cero
Cero
With Emperor Aquillus’s agreement, Cero had departed the badlands camp within hours of arriving.
His people did not yet know Aiz was dead.
They did not know what she had done for her magic.
Cero had to get hold of the narrative quickly, else the highborns would attempt to worm their way back into power.
He considered for nearly an hour whether to say goodbye to Karinna.
How to say goodbye to her. They’d spent a month together.
He’d brought her back to life. She’d saved his.
There was—something between them. But he didn’t know what it was and he was certain she didn’t either.
She’d just reunited with her family and she looked so joyful that it felt wrong to intrude on it.
She would be with her people now, helping to rebuild the land that the Kegari had destroyed. There was no place for him in her life.
He took one of the Sails the Jaduna had brought down, intending to leave quietly, only to find that Ruh awaited him, Abzi in his arms. Cero regarded the boy thoughtfully, almost warily.
Here was a child whose death seemed to have broken the world, whose return had put it to rights.
He had power. And he was, and always would be, connected to Cero through the bit of spirit they shared.
“I’ll see you again,” Ruh said as Abzi purred contentedly in his arms. “But don’t worry. No more dreams.”
The boy hadn’t yet explained what happened to him, or how his body had survived, though Cero heard his family asking. Cero had his suspicions, but in the end, he was just happy Ruh lived, and grateful that his survival meant the survival of the Kegari, too.
The moment Cero arrived in Antium, he called the clerics to him and shared the Ninth Sacred Tale—the story of what had happened to the Kegari so long ago. He told them of how they would return home.
Perhaps no one would have believed him. But while he’d been gone, Noa and Olnas had openly and vociferously spread the truth of how Aiz had gotten her power.
They’d told their stories of Cero’s youth.
Of his miracles. The Kegari needed hope, and the clerics knew well how to seed it.
The Ninth Sacred Tale spread like wildfire.
Still, it took nearly two weeks to evacuate the very last Kegari and their Sails from the Empire. The troops left quietly. Most were exhausted, broken from the war, from losing so many fellow soldiers and pilots. Many did not believe in the Return and assumed they were going back to Kegar in shame.
It was only by Emperor Aquillus’s grace that they were returning at all. He had given them a fortnight to leave, extracting a promise from Cero that he would remain in Antium to discuss the future of their two nations.
It helped that the Ankanese and Mariners, pressured by Emperor Aquillus, sent boatloads of food to Kegar. For a few months, at least, while Cero planned the Return, his people would not starve.
Getting the Kegari out was, to Cero’s surprise, relatively straightforward.
Deciding who to hand over to the Empire to answer for war crimes—that was a different matter.
The Empire wanted every pilot who’d dropped a bomb.
But that was nearly the entirety of their windsmithing population.
They would have no one to take soldiers home to New Kegar, nor to pilot Sails for the Return to Old Kegar.
Ultimately, Cero was forced to hand over a great number of highborn Hawks, for they had profited from the invasion far more than the pilots.
Cero determined which ones had committed the most egregious acts, rounded them up, and saw them off to a Martial prison.
Ghaz, screaming in protest, was one of them.
It was a relief to gut the highborn families. They were so busy battling over who would rule that by the time they realized their people had accepted Cero as the true Tel Ilessi, there was little they could do but bow to his face and scheme in the shadows.
After three weeks, with his people well gone, Cero completed discussions with the Emperor over reparations.
He was accompanied to those discussions by Noa, Olnas, High Cleric Dovan, and the new leaders of Clans Hiwa, Oona, and Ghaz.
As much as he wanted to dissolve the three highest-born clans altogether, he needed them. He needed the influence they provided.
However, he had given each leader an extensive understanding of his powers. Afterward, they’d been falling over themselves to swear fealty to him. For now, at least, they would cooperate.
“The Snipes won’t let it go back to how it was, lad,” Noa said as she prepared to return home with Olnas. “Our people are in your corner.”
“The highborns are always up to no good,” Olnas added. “But we can outwit them, can’t we, love?”
“That we can, my beauty.” Noa kissed Olnas on the tip of her nose. “That we can.”
When their assigned pilots had collected Cero’s retinue, he went to bid the Emperor farewell. After a few minutes, he found himself walking with the man through the grounds of a still-intact palace in Antium.
The stony white paths were littered with gold and red leaves, and the crack of hammers and screech of saws echoed through the air. A crisp wind blew at their backs—winter approached.
“How do you answer all their questions?” Cero asked Quil, for the Emperor seemed born to rule and wore the mantle of power as easily as a warm cape. Cero, on the other hand, often found that he wanted to hop in a Sail and fly as far away as possible from all the decisions he had to make.
“Sometimes, one of your people asks a question that appears simple,” Quil said.
“But in fact, beneath that initial question is a different question. They ask you about a property dispute, but what they want to know is: Do you uphold the rule of law? They ask about an illness, but what they want to know is: Will you help ease their suffering?”
The Emperor glanced at Cero, hands clasped behind his back.
“In the end, they need assurances that they will be safe. They will have joy. Work. Life. But you can’t answer any of those questions with absolute confidence.
Not if you want to be an honest man, anyway.
What you can do is ease their troubles and offer them a just world, where the rules for your Hawks are the same as for Snipes. You can give everyone a voice.”
Cero considered. “A republic,” he said, “instead of a theocracy.”
The Emperor nodded. “A republic is a worthy goal,” he said. “For your people and for mine.”
They were nearly to the airfield that abutted the palace. There, the last Sail in the Empire waited for Cero.
“We will send aid to rebuild, as promised,” Cero said. “Loha, Sails, pilots. Just as soon as we’re settled in Old Kegar.”
Emperor Aquillus nodded. “I know you will.” He was diplomatic enough, but Cero heard the threat that lay beneath the statement.
The Empire had Loha now. Not as much as Kegar, but not nothing, either.
While they had taken terrible losses, they would rebuild.
And Emperor Aquillus would ensure they were never caught unawares again.
They reached Cero’s Sail and he took a deep breath and offered the Emperor a hand.
The Emperor waited a moment, perhaps considering all that the war with Cero’s people had cost him. But in the end, he took Cero’s hand, his icy mien warming.
A beginning.
Cero lifted the Sail up in a tight spiral. It was a single, lighter than what he was used to, without arms or arsenal.
Or an angry rebel in the back. Or a cat nestling below his seat, occasionally kneading her paws against his calves, usually when he needed all his concentration.
He was supposed to wing directly south. To catch up to the rest of the air fleet in Jibaut. Instead, as he approached the Serran Mountain Range, he turned east.
It took longer to find her than he’d thought it would. Her people were in Nur, but she was not.
It was Ruh who told Cero where she was. He’d known that the Tel Ilessi was coming in the same way that Cero knew to find Ruh in Nur. They had a strange bond, the two of them.
When Cero landed, it was Ruh who greeted him first. The rest of Tribe Saif offered bare nods of acknowledgment, still uncertain how to treat the new leader of an enemy nation. Looking past them to the ruins of Nur, Cero didn’t blame them.
Laia of Serra appeared from the lines of wagons, greeting Cero with a swift hug and smile.
He was startled by it. Perhaps ripping out Aiz’s heart and putting it in Ruh made her think of him kindly.
Cero didn’t care to tangle with Karinna’s father, particularly after all he’d heard about the man.
But Elias Veturius offered a firm handshake and polite greeting before warning Ruh not to wander too far from the camp.
“Can we offer you anything?” Laia pulled her shawl tighter. “It will be a cold night. Stay for dinner and a tale, at least.”
Cero smiled. “Thank you, Laia. But I’m just here to see how Ruh is recovering.” He glanced down at the boy and saw kinship in his gaze. Neither of them was entirely of this world. Some part of their souls would always be bound up in a place of yellow skies and roaring seas.
Ruh walked with Cero to the edge of the camp. “You didn’t come only for me,” he said.
“Stop mindsmithing me, Ruh.”
“Less that and more the Loha bracelet in your pocket,” the boy said with a shrug. “I can see the Loha, wherever it is. I haven’t told anyone.”
“Tell your parents,” Cero said. “Doesn’t do to keep secrets from them.”
Ruh nodded. “I will.” He looked up at Cero. “Aiz would have told me to keep it a secret.”
Something ached in Cero’s chest. A few days after Aiz’s death, Cero had flown back to the cave.
He’d found her, wrapped her in a shroud, and buried her in the warm sands of the Tribal Desert before anyone could demand her body’s desecration.
Afterward, he’d wept alone for who she’d been and what the world had made her and what she’d made herself.