Chapter 2 #3
“Perhaps, but threatening someone like that isn’t an opinion, it’s an assault.
Come on, I don’t want to look at that filth any longer,” Tahira says, putting her arm around my shoulders as we move further along.
We keep moving around the building and finally see its other side.
I’m punched in the stomach all over again.
There’s a second part to this artwork. A part I missed. A part that cuts a whole lot deeper.
Idris’s face, glowing and proud, is spread tall and wide across the brickwork like a walking god. A shining hero wielding the sword that wraps around the edge of the building and is plunged into my stomach. The words “My Chosen Leader” are written in big letters.
Idris is cutting me down.
The Soulhate bond bristles and hisses as bile surges up my closing throat. I can’t help it, my fingers grip at my gut and clutch the silky dress fabric like a lifeline. I can’t tear my blurry, aching eyes away.
“Does he know about this?” Tahira asks, disbelieving, anger tinting her tone. I clear my throat and shake my head as I blink away an errant tear gathering in my eye. I struggle to breathe; each lungful stings like a handful of nettles.
“He doesn’t speak to me.” My voice is gravelly.
“Still?” Tahira scowls sharply and mutters something under her breath. I open my eyes again, gaze falling over the wall and landing on Kaz’s gift from his father. A way to protect her brother.
“Tahira,” I say softly, “I need to beg a favour I hope never comes to pass.”
Tahira stills for a minute.
“Oh?”
“You have a plan, for Kaz to escape should the city fall.” I state it. It’s only reasonable. Tahira doesn’t answer.
“If possible, take Giulia with you,” I say, my throat closing up.
“You’re not asking for yourself?”
“I’ve always known I would give my life in service of my city,” I answer, the words feeling cold and detached as they leave my tongue. “If Halice falls, it’s my failure and I will fall with it.”
“Failure?” Tahira scowls unhappily. “Nothing is lost until you stop fighting for it.”
“Then others will have to fight in my place. I can’t abandon this city with breath in my body.”
Tahira looks like she’s going to say something else, but just then Savino comes back with two people, towing buckets and paint brushes and shooting me nasty glares. They make a show of working slowly, making it clear they’re covering the mural under duress.
“You didn’t have to do that,” I say as Savino comes level.
“This is not okay,” Savino says, jabbing angrily at the graffiti. “The people need to respect and follow the chain of command. This is war.”
“Our people are not used to war,” I answer, closing my eyes as I fight for control and reason amongst the avalanche of emotions threatening to drown me. “We have had peace for so long that its horrors have almost been forgotten – or worse, ignored – by our people.”
“Besides,” says Tahira comfortingly, “they’re just words.”
“Words are the power of the people, and the power of the people is vast,” Savino says reverently. It is a famous quote from our own High Chamber. He’s right.
Violence is coming for this city. From within and without.
“If that’s all, I think I’ll be on my way,” Tahira says.
“Of course. I’ll see you soon,” I say warmly, with a parting wave. Tahira tosses a final look towards the vicious mural, face twisting with concern before heading in the direction of the docks.
Savino and I stand on the stop of the sea wall, looking out over the briny horizon. I groan and rub my eyes. The last thing we need is for a key diplomatic ally to witness how divided the city has become. The widening fissures in this city.
“Do you want to reconsider your choice?” Savino asks quietly as he pulls some papers out of his pockets.
He hands them to me, the official documents for my contingency plan.
For weeks he’s been insisting I make an official, written plan to hand over power.
Just in case I’m killed or out of action for any reason.
Someone to take up my mantle of Maestrus.
He’s right of course, but it’s taken me far too long to wrestle with the bond, the truth and my own bruised and bleeding feelings.
My eyes scan down until I see Idris Patricelli’s name written clear as day. It curdles my stomach. My lips part with a trembling breath.
I shake my head.
“He’s the right choice,” I say quietly.
“After that?” Savino gestures to the artwork slowly being covered by disgruntled workers behind us. I understand what Savino means. Of course I do. He knows Idris just as well as I do, and is actually able to get him to speak at the moment.
“Have you seen Idris with a paintbrush? His stickmen are crooked.” I try to make a joke of it as I beckon the scribe following us to come closer. They open the ink and hand me a quill.
“Renza…” Savino’s voice drops with concern. He leans next to me on the sea wall. “That image is more than some disgruntled grumbling. That’s a death threat. A very loud, gruesome attack on your life.”
“A death threat they’d have no way of knowing I’d actually see? Am I known for coming down here?” I scoff, because this might be the first time this year that I’ve come down to walk the sea wall.
“But Idris does. I don’t think the message was for you,” Savino says seriously. I sigh, pressing my lips together as I look down at the document.
“If you give him this, he is one heartbeat away from being Maestrus,” Savino says quietly. “And with things as they are between the two of you—”
“Idris may not like me, but I don’t believe he’d hurt me,” I say, wishing I believed the words.
I did once.
But this isn’t about me. This is about Halice, and who should lead it if I fall.
Idris is the only person that can rally the city behind him.
The only person I know without a shadow of a doubt who values the lives of Halicians as much as the freedom of the city.
Someone who would give their all, not succumb to fear, ego or bribes…
Someone who would give democracy back to the people when the war was done. Just as I plan to do.
I dip my quill in the ink and quickly sign each of the documents in triplicate. I blow them dry before handing them back to the scribe.
Savino sighs but nods, not arguing with his superior.
“Thank you for your counsel,” I say with genuine appreciation, touching his arm. I know he cares. His brow creases, his eyes scanning my face with bristling concern.
“Your safety is my priority,” Savino says quietly. “Right now, you are the city.”
“No, I’m merely its current mouthpiece,” I counter, slipping my arm through his. “Now show me the new recruits.”