Chapter 10
Chapter Ten
The sky stretches in shades of coral and brick. Droopy clouds with heavy underbellies close in with a vermillion gleam as the golden crown of the sun skips gracefully from the sky.
Striding into the army training grounds outside the walls of our city is begrudgingly familiar to me now – the hastily constructed arena allows for a late sea breeze to sweep across the long, trampled grass.
The salty aftertaste mingles with the dusty florals of the wildflowers defiantly creeping up in the oddest of cracks, refusing to be cowed by the bullying leather boots and steel armour of the new occupants.
I locate the permanent tented structure in the colours of the city surrounded by guards. The Halician flag waves from the top of the heavy canvas tent, the white column standing before a yellow sun on a background of soft sea blues tumbles in the playful breeze.
As I walk towards the tent entrance, one of the City Guard members is actively glaring at me. I don’t know why, or what I’ve done. Have they heard about the attack on me earlier? News like that has surely spread like wildfire.
I try to ignore it, attempting to squash the squirming in my stomach as I push the flap aside and enter the tent.
Savino is sitting at a table, talking seriously with a few of his men. He looks up as I enter, his brow puckering hopefully as he stands.
“Well?” he asks. I shake my head, defeat making my voice brittle and heavy.
“Nothing.”
Savino’s shoulders drop at my word and he rubs a hand over his jaw. He walks towards me as the breeze ruffles the thick canvas of the tent.
“Walk?” he offers. I know he prefers to move as he thinks so I nod, falling into step beside him as we leave the tent again.
We step outside and I spy a few more guards throwing disgusted looks my way.
I bite my lip, trying to throw it from my mind as Savino leads me past a large, dusty space where men practise with swords.
Clearly they’re new recruits being trained by experienced men, many of the trainers being Red Sands mercenaries Tahira has offered.
Fate’s Fury, this city owes them a lot. Thank goodness this trade deal is covering the expenses or who knows how we’d pay them.
“Are you sure there are explosives hidden in the city?” asks Savino quietly as we head past the training ground. I sigh, the sinking sun casting long grey shadows over the trampled grass and cluster of beige tents.
“We’ve asked around, and heard the rumours from a few different sources,” I admit unhappily, hating how helpless my words sound. “Enough lips repeated it with sincerity that we have reason to worry. Something is planned for tonight.”
“So you want to go ahead with this curfew?” Savino asks sceptically, eyes jumping across our army.
“You sound like you don’t,” I counter, looking at him properly. Savino wrinkles his face as he considers his words, looking out over the recruits.
“Most of the new recruits are here because their other work has dried up. They don’t want to be soldiers. They don’t want to fight or be members of the guard. They want to feed their families and this is the pay cheque they can find.”
“You say this because you doubt their commitment?”
“Not that per se, but they don’t want to fight. They don’t want to go to war.”
“I don’t want to go to war,” I argue, feeling the weight of the world tightening around my throat. “I don’t want to fight. But the Holy States are coming.”
“I know, I know. But morale is fragile. If we implement a curfew and ask them to patrol it, to patrol their friends and families that are already scared and confused and struggling with unprecedented times…” Savino rubs his jaw.
“What does it say to our own people? We don’t trust you?
Fall in line or else? I don’t think this will be taken well at all. ”
“The alternative is an attack by our own people, against the people. What will that do for morale?” I ask, fervently hoping Savino has more up his sleeve than just pointing out the many, many risks in this situation.
“Well … to find a silver lining … it might motivate them. Remind them what we’re fighting against,” Savino says quietly. My stomach churns at Savino’s suggestion.
“You want me to risk the lives of our people in a horrendous explosion because it might boost the fighting spirit of our army?” I repeat, desperately wrestling to keep the judgement out of my voice. Savino shakes his head, appalled.
“No. Of course not. I don’t want anyone to die. I’m just not sure a city-wide curfew is going to win the army any points with the people they’re supposed to protect. Particularly when we can’t explain to them that there is a serious, imminent threat in the city.”
“If we did that, it would defeat the point of the curfew. People would panic. There would be chaos and pandemonium. People still remember the Grand Temple,” I answer, hand going to the faint burn mark that still graces the back of my shoulder. A souvenir from that unspeakable tragedy.
“I know. I just … was hoping we’d have another course of action by now,” Savino mumbles. “I would like my men to be enthusiastic and committed. But they’ve already convinced themselves that if they fight, they’ll die. And that negativity is catching.”
“That is a different problem,” I groan, pinching the bridge of my nose as the problems keep mounting.
Problems I am supposed to solve, and I’m already spread paper thin.
“We do need to do something about that, you’re right.
But right now, we need to keep our people safe until those explosives are found. ”
“Perhaps a demonstration of some of our new war machines? Like the trebuchet? To show them that we have something up our sleeves. Or perhaps something to show our mercenary allies that we will turn the tide on the battlefield?”
“We can’t turn our allies into a spectacle for amusement. But we can do something. Let me think on it,” I propose, coming to a stop and facing him. “But give the order for the curfew. We can tell people that agitators in the city are the cause – but do not give any further specifics.”
Savino nods, face twisting unhappily.
“Yes, Maestrus.”
He walks away to give the order. I turn to leave, wanting to go and find Tahira for another update – hoping that she at least has made some more progress. May this be the only night this curfew has to stand. As I head back across the field I see someone unexpected and I pause.
Lysa stands with Bashran and a few Coari soldiers, and a few Halician ones too.
They’re chatting with warm smiles on their faces.
Laughter is easy, the seductive allure of my cousin enrapturing them all in their mirthful discussions.
Seeming to sense my study, Lysa turns her head towards me.
A smirk filters onto her red lips as she bids the others a graceful goodbye and walks towards me.
“Hello, cousin. What are you doing here?” she asks, running a hand through her long, silky hair.
“I could ask you the same thing,” I answer measuredly.
“Bash invited me to watch his training session,” Lysa says, eyes flicking back to the tall, muscled, handsome warrior who seems to be fighting the urge to watch my cousin from afar. “He’s quite the … ah … inspiring fighter.”
“Agreed,” I answer as she falls into step next to me.
“I heard about a scuffle earlier, outside the Garden,” she starts gently. “Every time I hear the story, the details change…”
“Someone threw pig’s blood over me. I’m fine. It was just disgusting,” I say quietly, wondering what my cousin will think of the truth. Her thoughtful expression doesn’t change, her ethereal grace seeming unshockable. What I wouldn’t give to hold some of that steadfast strength right about now.
“How horrible,” she says eventually, “but you’re not hurt. You should consider asking people to come to you in future, rather than going to them.”
“They’re working.”
“So are you, and you are Maestrus. If they need to see you, they should come to you.”
“And if I need to see them?” I counter.
“They should come to you,” Lysa repeats. “You’re their leader.”
Am I, though? When half the city wants Idris as their leader? When they jeered and called for violence, when they assaulted me with bricks and pig’s blood and wishes for my death?
“You need to delegate more,” Lysa says matter-of-factly, “or you’ll burn out before the Holy States even cross the border.”
I want to roll my eyes. I want to scream. How can I delegate when everything is my responsibility? When everything I’m not watching could fall apart or become vulnerable to corruption or manipulation?
“Headed home?” Lysa asks brightly, turning the conversation as she links her arm through mine. “Or off for another meeting? You seem to be all go at the moment. Not a minute to sit, not a minute to chat.”
“Meeting,” I answer, clearing my throat.
“I’ll pass the message to Chef that you’ll be having another late dinner,” she says warmly.
“No, it’s alright—”
“Happy to! I’m actually out this evening,” Lysa says conversationally. “But I need to go home and change first. I mean, I can’t go out like this.”
She gestures down to another one of her utterly impeccable dresses. I narrow my eyes at her, questions springing to my lips.
“Out? With whom?”
“A friend of mine I haven’t seen since she moved here from the Wheel City years ago.
” Lysa waves a hand airily. “We used to be very close, until her father made a few stupid decisions. We’re going to see a play and get dinner.
But while I’m home, I’ll let Giulia know you’ll be late.
You can thank me later for weathering that storm. ”
I nod, not sure what to make of that. It sounds reasonable enough, I suppose.
“When are you planning on leaving?” I ask. Lysa sighs and shrugs.
“Halice? How long is a piece of string?” She throws her dark hair over her shoulder. “But in all seriousness, I shouldn’t think much longer now. No need to lurk with tensions as they are.”
Her sharp eyes cut to the field of training men as they are dismissed from training and traipse over to their water and bags. I used to think Halice the most welcoming, warm, understanding place in the world. I couldn’t fathom anyone being keen to leave.
I hate that her words have purchase. But, if I fight hard enough, if I do my job properly, I can bring it back.
Restore the Halice I knew for years. The Halice of my childhood.
The safe, kind, warm city that truly exists in peoples’ souls.
I can do that. I have to do that. Even if it breaks me, even if the cost is my life.
Or else this isn’t the city I fell in love with.