Thirteen
My family,” Ky begins, “as I said, is one of the Council families on Hod. You know what that means?”
“Just that the Council is in charge of the Arbiters. And everything else.”
“It’s not a bad summary. There’s about a dozen families that have seats. We spend most of our time trying to undermine and bankrupt each other.”
“Sounds lovely.”
“Quietly despising the neighbors is a traditional Hod pastime,” she says. “Anyway. After my mother died, it was just my father and me. We had money and connections, which made us powerful, but also a tempting target. And somebody got tempted. My father was assassinated.”
She says this with such calm, as though it were a mildly unpleasant but indisputable fact. I’m watching her eyes, though, and I can see what it costs her to bring it up. Her voice, outwardly flat, has a hollow undertone.
“I’d have thought you had”—I wave a hand vaguely—“guards. Protections.” I can only imagine what Hod money can buy in terms of security.
“We did,” Ky says, and now her voice turns bitter. “Our head guard was a man named Gestian. He served my father since before I was born. Taught me to fight. He’s practically my uncle.” She swallows. “He was part of the assassination.”
“Oh.”
“What was supposed to happen next was that I would recognize my impossible position and quietly submit to one of the other families, who would absorb our holdings. Probably the Dreikins; Devon Dreikin is an avaricious motherfucker. I’d be married off and, likely as not, quietly disposed of once everyone forgot about me.
Since I didn’t find any of that appealing, I grabbed what I could carry and snuck down to Yesod.
“That leaves them in a bit of a bind. They can’t officially loot my father’s corpse with me still around, unless they can lean on me to give my permission.
On the other hand, everyone knows the lower tiers are dangerous.
If I were to turn up conveniently dead, that would solve everything.
So. You know. I’m a little jumpy. Following so far? ”
I’m a little startled at the idea of placid Yesod as a murderous hellhole. “More or less. What about Pader?”
“Pader Cavcante.” She lets out a long breath.
“Pader was supposed to be my way out. He is—was—heir to a Yesod family that’s done very well for themselves.
The Cavcante are probably richer than some Hod families by now, but you can’t move up a tier just by making a fortune.
The Council has to approve new immigrants, and the Council thinks everyone not born on Hod is a half step from a crazed cannibal.
“But if you marry into a Hod family—a Council family, no less—then things get a lot easier. A foot in the door, so to speak.”
“You were going to marry him?”
Ky sighs. “In my defense, it sounded like a good plan. I need money and protection; they’ve got both, and they need a way up to Hod.
Win-win. Weslai told me that Pader understood this was going to be an in-name-only thing; he already had plenty of girls.
They put me up in that house while we were negotiating.
Then we finally got to spend some time with each other and… well. You saw what happened.”
“Shit.”
“Yeah.”
“So I just made a whole bunch of nasty enemies.”
“You probably don’t have to worry about it.
Nobody knows you were there except me, and they’re hardly likely to listen to what I have to say.
But now I’ve got one of the richest families on Yesod—who are, it hardly needs to be said, a bunch of murderous crooks—coming after me, and Gestian and the Council assassins and the Arbiters and probably the cats and dogs for all I know.
” She flops back down on the bed, face-first. “Starting to think I should just jump into the Heap and be done with it.”
“I don’t recommend it.”
“No?”
“You might live. Then the Twisted would get you.”
Ky raises her head, and for some reason she looks excited. “There really are Twisted down there?”
I blink. “Of course. Everyone knows that.”
“Some people on Hod say that they’re just myths to scare children.”
“They’re not myths.” I wonder if I should show her my scars. “Star and I hunt them for the bounty and their sigils.”
“You hunt them.” She rolls over and gives a cackle. “That’s perfect.”
“Perfect for what? Is this about the job you wanted me for?”
“Yeah. Have you ever heard of the Ascent?”
There’s a brief pause while I go out to get us something to eat at a corner stall.
Ky produces some bits from her pack, and I pay an exorbitant amount for two jugs of water and two wraps full of unidentifiable meat and fried mash, then return to our room.
I half expect her to turn up her nose at Malkuth food, but of the two of us I might be the pickier one, poking through the bits of gristle.
At least when Somi cooks you can tell what things are. In the end, hunger wins out.
“Yes,” I say between bites. “I know about the Ascent. There’s flyers all over the Heap. Big tournament for fighting runics on Hod.”
“The biggest,” Ky says. “Held every five years.”
“And the entry fee is a hundred stripes. I don’t know why they bother sending word down to us.”
“Part of the rules,” Ky says with her mouth full. “Supposed to be open to all, regardless of station.”
“Why?” Open to Heapers who can pay a hundred stripes is pretty much the same as open to flying pigs. Maybe Uncle Claw could afford it, but he’d never waste the money. “What’s so special about it?”
“The Ascent isn’t just another tournament,” she says eagerly. “It comes from Above.”
I’m getting a little tired of asking her to define her terms. “Above, meaning…”
She raises her eyebrows. “Meaning Above. Like… above the cap and the sun-lights. Past Hod. Above.”
“The surface, you mean.”
“Kind of. It’s more complicated than that, I think.
” She sighs. “Only the heads of the Council families and an elite squad of Arbiters are allowed up there. Father always said he’d bring me one day.
They meet with people, representatives of…
of Above, and negotiate for things. I think? Everyone’s very secretive about it.”
“Okay,” I say, not feeling particularly enlightened. “And the tournament?”
“Apparently they have tournaments Above, too. The Ascent starts here, with us, but it keeps going up and up and up. A judge from Above comes down to oversee it. It’s the only time one of them visits Hod.”
Somi’s the one who likes books and stories of the surface. He’d happily kill for five minutes to talk to a visitor from Above, but it doesn’t hold much appeal to me. “What does that have to do with us?”
“Have you ever put Star in a runic fight?”
I hesitate, unsure how to explain. “Not… exactly.”
“But he has fought Twisted,” she says, half to herself. “It can’t be that different.”
“You want us to fight in this tournament? That’s the job?”
“It would fix everything,” Ky says eagerly.
“The Council can’t move against me during the tournament; everyone will be watching.
Most of the competitors will be sponsored by one family or another.
If I sponsor you, and you do well, the prestige will buttress my position.
I can find allies, push the vultures back. ”
“That’s fine for you—”
“And the prize is… Well, I don’t know exactly, but it’s a lot. Tens of thousands of stripes.”
My mouth snaps closed with a click, mid-sentence. Tens of thousands of stripes. Tens of thousands of stripes.
One stripe would be the difference between my family starving and living in comfort for years.
With tens of thousands we could— I don’t even know what we could do.
For a moment I contemplate building a palace next to the market, opening our own pig farm and eating bacon every day, before I realize the obvious:
We could leave. Move to Malkuth. Move to fucking Yesod; I’m sure for enough money you can buy a pass. Live like… well, like people on Yesod, where there’s always enough to eat and monsters don’t creep over the walls at night and your house isn’t made of scrap metal and shards of glass.
It’s ridiculous. A fantasy. But for an instant, behind my eyes, I can see it.
“And you’d let me have it?” I say, with more sarcasm than I intended.
“I don’t need the money,” Ky says. “Or I won’t, if we win. If I can take my place on the Council I’ll have access to all the resources of my family. If the prize isn’t enough, you can have more. Whatever you want.”
“Hold on.” I set down the remaining half of my wrap. “There are so many problems with this I don’t know where to start.”
“Like what?”
“Like that hundred-stripe entry fee. Have you got a hundred stripes in your pack?” If she says yes, I’m seriously considering grabbing the bag and making a run for it.
She shakes her head. “I gave most of my cash to that Arbiter.”
“That knocks the whole thing on the head, then, because I sure as fuck don’t have a hundred stripes.”
“I’ve got that worked out. We’ll make it doing runic fights on Malkuth. And more, since we’re going to need parts to build a bigger version of Star. No offense intended to your work.”
“Fights on Malkuth?” I shake my head. “What makes you think Star has a chance here, much less in this tournament?”
[Betrayal: you have so little faith in me?]
Have you been listening to all this?
[Confirmation: difficult to avoid. I am under the bed.]
I’d almost forgotten he was there; I’m so used to Star being away anytime I’m around people. It’s not you I don’t have faith in, it’s her.
[Agreement: she is desperate.]
No kidding.
[Unease: I was concerned your desire to mate with her was distorting your reason.]
I’m not— I mean—whatever. If I can’t be honest with Star in my own head, where can I be? Fine. But that’s apparently off the table.
[Chastisement: as long as you remember.]
“—many runics, have you?” Ky is saying.
“Sorry.” I shake my head. “Mind wandering for a second there. What did you say?”
Ky looks exasperated. “I said, you haven’t been around many runics, have you?”
“I’ve seen enough,” I say. “We have runic fights in the Heap, too.”
“I’ve been around them all my life,” Ky says. “On Hod, runics do all the heavy work, and there are tournaments practically every week. I’m not a sigwork expert or anything, but I can tell you that Star is different.”
This is veering into territory that makes me both intensely curious and instantly uncomfortable. That Star is unique even among runics from Hod is a fascinating discovery, but I’m certainly not about to trust Ky with his secret.
“Different how?” I venture, cautiously.
“Faster. Smarter. It doesn’t need to be given explicit instructions.” She shakes her head. “I haven’t seen you give it any instructions.”
“We have a system,” I improvise. “Gestures and such. And Star prefers he, not it.”
“Exactly!” she says eagerly. “You talk about it—about him—like he’s alive.”
[Query: am I alive?]
Fuck if I know, buddy. Philosophy isn’t my strong suit. You can talk, and that’s good enough for me.
Ky is still staring at me eagerly. I clear my throat.
“Okay. You think Star is great. But the little body he’s in wouldn’t stand up to a fighting runic back home, much less some Hod runic with indigo sigils.”
She snorts. “Nobody has indigo sigils, even on Hod. I’ve only ever seen a few blues.”
Nice to know that even their wealth has limits. “Still. He’s not in fighting shape. And the reason I came to you in the first place is because I needed cash.”
“You have another body for him, though. A fighting body. You must, since you hunt Twisted, right?”
I’d forgotten I’d told her that. Ky is annoyingly intelligent.
“I… do. But it got badly wrecked last time I tried something like this.”
“I know where we can borrow some money.” She gives a vicious grin and cracks her knuckles.
“Not a hundred stripes, but enough to build a fighting runic. The Ascent isn’t for two months.
We can work our way up. Invest Star’s winnings in better sigils.
You could build him something better, right? If you had the parts?”
“Of course.” I feel the faintest thrill of anticipation.
I’ve never had more than scraps to work with, and some part of my mind is already designing something great.
The things I could do if I didn’t have to scrape for every RESIST and bit of threading wire…
My heart is beating faster, but it’s as though I can feel Somi staring at me over my shoulder. “But what if we lose?”
“In the tournament?” Ky shrugs. “You get sent home.”
“That’s it?”
“It’s a runic tournament, not a fight to the death,” she says, then offhandedly adds, “Though I would probably be murdered before nightfall.”
“You—” I stare at her. She meets my gaze challengingly, and only in a slight quiver of her jaw do I detect any nerves.
“It’s my only chance,” she says quietly. “It’s always like this up there. Win or die.”
“It’s not that different down below,” I mutter.
“So.” Ky extends her right hand. “Are you in?”
I close my eyes and extend my mind to Star. What do you think?
[Hesitation: I do not fully understand the human aspects at play.]
I’m not sure I do, either.
[Observation: the idiot would not be sufficient. I would have to fight.]
Definitely. The thought makes my guts clench. I’ve spent so long hiding Star, terrified someone would take him from me…
[Tentative: I would like… to know what I can do.]
I smile inwardly. Me too.
I still feel Somi staring over my shoulder, telling me it’s too dangerous. But Rekas and Uncle Claw are on the other shoulder, pressing down. Spike, sobbing against me, asking why everyone gets to shit on us.
Because we’re at the bottom, that’s why. But maybe we don’t have to be.
Very slowly, I take Ky’s hand. Her fingers are long and thin, pads calloused from swordplay.
“I’m in,” I say.