Chapter 23 #3
Into the deathly silence, I say, “Allow me to reintroduce myself.”
There will be no questions about whether I am who I say I am.
If they can only think of sages as monsters, I will give them one.
“My name is Yora.”
My voice is low, but nonetheless carries through the shocked-silent room.
“I am the Sage of Wrath.”
With a flick of my wrists I create a wall of pink beneath me and begin to advance across a translucent platform, over the heads of my silent audience.
It’s not flying, but it will do.
“I have stood against the Order before, when I created the Quiet five hundred years ago to protect the people of Crystal Hollow from them. And for five hundred years, I granted you that false security with my life.”
I look down at Waten, whose blood has drained out of his face as he shrinks back down into his chair, no longer willing to make himself a target when faced with someone he believes is more than a neighbor.
He has misunderstood, but that’s fine.
A man who would throw away another for his own convenience isn’t worth my effort to save.
I look around the room. “Now it’s your turn,” I tell them, “to protect a sage.”
I hold their attention for a long moment, my wrath pulsing.
And then I simply turn and walk back down the path, allowing it to dissipate behind me.
“You can do it again then, can’t you?” Waten calls out. “You can still keep us safe from the Order’s interference—”
“Why would I burn myself into a husk for you?” I ask without slowing.
“Because we’re people—”
I do whirl then. “So am I. So is Teren, and yes, even Eraya. Do you think it is an accident that gods only come to the world in human form? Do you think in the afterlife, the gods will be impressed with your choices?”
“What about yours?” Waten protests. “If you won’t—”
I cut him off with a slash of my power, a streak of magenta flashing through the air.
It doesn’t do anything but look impressive, but he doesn’t know that.
“I am Wrath,” I say. “My god will not deny me for this.”
Because they deserve my wrath, for allowing—creating the conditions for this to happen.
This is a godsdamned boundary: We do not sacrifice people.
I reach the ground again and say to Jiran, whose eyes have widened behind the mask of jadedness, “Thank you for your time. No matter what they or you decide, if you ever wish for me to remove your binding, you know where to find me.”
“Wait!” Sunani stands up on her chair. “We’re not done.”
Jiran tilts his head to look at her.
She’s shaking.
But then Gisa clambers up onto a chair, too, even as Haben swears and shoots up to brace her before she can topple over.
And Gisa points a finger at Waten and says, “We don’t have a policy for exiling people from Crystal Hollow. But anyone who buys this man’s bread is not welcome here any longer.”
Waten gasps. “How dare you! I protected us—”
“You protected yourself, at our expense,” Nomi growls at him.
“This is preposterous!” he yells. “You’re—you’re only angry because that—that sage is making you angry—”
“Oh, no no no,” I croon. “You all know what it feels like, now, when I hold your emotions in the palm of my hand.”
Waten visibly breaks out in sweat, because not a single person here is going to gainsay that.
I could do it more subtly, of course.
But I have no need to.
“They wouldn’t be doing this if not for you!” Waten accuses.
I lean back against the wall. “If you need a threat to learn not to sacrifice people, then I will provide it. If you need history shoved in your face to realize that sacrificing others will buy you only false security, then I will provide it.”
My wrath-powered words slice like blades.
“But if you need to feel the welcome of a community,” I tell him, “to understand that solidarity is the only way any of us will ever have freedom, then I have bad news, neighbor. You had that opportunity, and you forfeited it.”
The room is silent for a moment. And then—
“Well, if we’re throwing all our scales on the table,” Zan drawls next to me.
Before I can do more than tense—I did it so he didn’t need to, but Teren did it so I didn’t need to, and if we’re really an us then godsdammit—Zan’s eyes begin to glow.
But not like a sage’s do.
His irises vanish, and a moment later, his disguise peels away, revealing his brilliant blue hair for all to see.
Haben quickly sets Gisa on the ground before she falls, as more than one person who’d begun to recover control of themselves now find their expressions slack once more.
“The reason any of you have working appliances in your homes,” Zan says coolly, “is because five hundred years ago, when the Quiet fell, I allowed a rogue sage and a resident from Crystal Hollow—Tasa, whose mark you all know as the woman who rebuilt this entire town—to embed my scales within your homes, to power your magic so you would not need to be reliant on the Order.
“Learned Mujin didn’t have time to sabotage all of your homes while the Sage of Compassion was keeping you occupied because Yora intervened. You think you are at his mercy.
“But I know where all my scales are, and I can take them back.”
Ohhh, shit.
“So remaining as you were,” Zan says, “is no longer an option. You can no longer have freedom from consequences without taking responsibility.”
He looks at Romasa, specifically, who gapes at him.
“All of you who chose to live in Crystal Hollow away from the Order can choose to make this place a sanctuary for no one,” Zan says. “Or you can choose to make it a sanctuary for anyone who is willing to stand. Those are the options you have today.”
This silence hangs for a moment, with no one knowing quite how to respond.
In fairness, we have just piled a whole bunch of revelations on them at once.
Teren isn’t here to advise me not to push them too far.
Then Gisa lets out a disgusted breath. “A dragon has done more for our own people than we have. How embarrassing.” She looks at Nomi. “Even that old fart you apprenticed with was part of this.”
A ghost of a smile crosses Nomi’s face, as if Gisa used a term of endearment.
“Everyone who’s lived in my house for the last five hundred years has been part of the resistance.
Mainly making sure all your damn stoves work, to be honest, but also helping out sages when the chance arises. The fight isn’t new to Crystal Hollow.”
“But Crystal Hollow is new to the fight.” Gisa looks back at Zan, then at me. “The Order will not learn any more about you from us. And if anyone thinks I don’t have the authority to enforce that...” She bares her teeth at the room. “Reconsider how many of your secrets this old woman knows.”
My wrath twines with fierce satisfaction. Gods, I knew I liked her.
And I can see how she used to lead this community in how far ahead she’s thinking: She must realize that with the Sage of Wrath and a dragon working together, we can go anywhere in Kameya—in the world—and kill whomever we choose.
(In theory. In practice, it is more complicated than that—anti-dragon defenses exist. But it’s a lot more possible than any of our enemies will be comfortable with.)
Our main vulnerability is if Crystal Hollow leads or allows our enemies to find us when we’re at rest. Which means if Zan and I—and Teren, and Nomi, and anyone else who for whatever reason cannot have the current Order in their business—are to stay here, Crystal Hollow must be willing to hold the line for any threat Zan and I offer to matter.
And, of course, we are also vulnerable when the people we are close to are threatened.
But the answer to that is solidarity, not division.
Not sacrifice for convenience, because as soon as you cede the line, you will keep ceding it.
That’s why the Order is always so desperate for my skills, after all. My ability to cause people to break their own boundaries is unparalleled.
Wouldn’t it be a wonder, if I could do it the other way too, and help people hold their boundaries against threats instead?
I am absolutely forcing the issue, but they do still have a choice here, and Zan was right, before: I need to let them make it.
But that isn’t the same as quitting the field.
“Hey, Sunani,” I say.
She blinks up at me, wide-eyed.
“Want to share a table with me at the market?” I ask. “My ice cream is melting, and I could use some help setting Teren’s blankets up.”
What I actually need help with is a reason for people to still be willing to come talk to me now that my secret is out.
If she agrees I’ll confess that to her once we’re away—I don’t want to use her under false pretenses like apparently so many want from her—
“You’re leaving now?” Romasa asks. “With this mess you’ve made—”
“Yora didn’t make it,” Nomi snaps. “People who are targeted for simply being born do not bear blame for it. And she’s offering to fix a problem for us that she doesn’t have to—”
“Two problems she doesn’t have to,” Haben points out. “Priests and ice. And who even are we in Crystal Hollow if we’ll lose out on a chance for ice cream?”
The tension pops with some startled chuckles.
Teren wasn’t kidding about ice cream being special in Crystal Hollow, apparently.
Sunani stands. “I’d be happy to. Who needs bread when there is ice cream, anyway?”
More laughs as she makes her way out of the crowd toward me while Waten blusters.
?Let Sunani have the last word,? Zan’s voice advises in my mind.
I don’t startle, only barely. Since when can he do that while in human form?
But I don’t argue with him, Sunani and I walking side-by-side back out the door without another word even as chatter erupts again behind us.