11. The Stained Serai (Belosveka)¶
“You’re fucking joking,” Vaye said.
As Belosveka had expected, Vaye was not impressed with her new accommodations, but there were only so many places you could hide a fugitive Anashi. Unfortunately, that meant swapping her ancestral temple for a mockery of it.
The Stained Serai’s garish sign, painted in a crude approximation of High Anashic lettering, made the dubious claim that the inn had the “Best Bread and Ale in Thelenza”. Below the bright red text, a merry demon capered though a field of whirlwinds, clutching a colossal tankard and a loaf of the aforementioned bread in its many hands. The demon had black lips and a mass of curling glassworms for hair, its gray skin darker around the eyes and extremities.
“It’s tacky, I know,” Belosveka said. “But the staff is made up of Anashim or people made to look Anashi. There’s no better place for you to hide.”
Vaye examined a depiction of Grandmother carved into the gatepost. “Tacky? This place is a disgrace,” she murmured. “And the staff will obviously know I’m not one of them.”
Belosveka cracked her knuckles, an old nervous habit. “That won’t be a problem,” she said.
“Why’s that?”
If Vaye had disliked the idea of staying here, she’d like this even less. “Because I own it,” Belosveka admitted.
Vaye barked out a laugh, but drew back when she realized it wasn’t a joke. Her expression traveled from incredulity to outrage, making a brief stop along the way for disgust. “That’s... I just... why?”
“In my line of work, places where people can come and go without being noticed are quite useful,” Belosveka murmured, glancing at a Sarmalan family walking past. “Look, can we have this discussion inside?”
“And what exactly is your line of work, Bel?” Vaye said, planting her fists on her hips. “Is this a brothel? A smuggling ring? A fucking assassin’s guild?”
“It’s not safe to talk out here. Remember, you just—”
“You don’t want to talk? Fine. How about I pop into your little establishment and ask some of your employees about you? I’m sure they’ll be happy to talk. After all, they’re my people.”
Belosveka grabbed the Anashi’s arm as she started to open the gate. “Vaye, wait.”
Vaye angrily shook loose and turned to leave. “No. I’m done waiting for you to trust me.”
“You’re right,” Belosveka said to Vaye’s back. The girl froze, her posture radiating tension. “We owe each other the truth. And I’ll give it to you, I promise. In private.” She gestured to the inn. Vaye paused for a moment longer, then finally pushed open the gate.
The Stained Serai had at one point been an Anashi school, or so the previous owners had claimed. The wood-panelled common room occupied a former lecture hall, the pews turned into benches and the lectern into a bar. Ornate wooden stairs led up to the mezzanine, where libraries and study halls had been converted to bedchambers.
The manager, a rumpled Cantereian with drooping eyelids, hurried over. As far as most of the staff were aware, Belosveka was just a wealthy, eccentric customer who dined there every twelvedays or two, but the manager was one of her operatives. “Your Dignity,” he said, looking askance at Vaye. “We weren’t expecting you.”
“An impromptu visit,” Belosveka replied. “We’ll need a private dining room.”
“Of course,” he said, bowing. “Will you want a bottle of the red?” It was an admittedly unsubtle code to ask whether he should prepare for violence.
“Not tonight, thank you. Just a quiet table, some copper ale, and a platter of roasted mushrooms and peppers. And some fresh rosemary bread, if you have it.”
“Right away, Your Dignity.” He snapped his fingers and summoned several staff members, one of whom was an actual Anashi. Vaye glared at the poor woman as though holding her accountable for the inn’s existence.
After ushering them into a small room set aside for clandestine purposes and fetching two absurdly-large tankards of copper ale, the manager bowed and left. The room was stuffy, but featured a trap door leading down into the sobração. Belosveka was glad she’d never had to use it, since it was unclear whether she would fit.
“Well?” Vaye said, wiping foam off her lip. “You said you were going to tell me all your secrets.”
“Perhaps not all of them,” Belosveka replied.
“Hey!” Vaye said. “You promised me—”
Belosveka held up a finger. Vaye was about to make an angry reply when the door opened again and the Anashi staffer entered with their platter of food. She gave Vaye a fearful glance before hastily bowing to Belosveka and departing.
“Now,” Belosveka said once the door was closed. “Some secrets exist for a reason. If you invite them in, death often hitches a ride.”
Vaye rolled her eyes. “Okay, Doom-Speaker. I get it.”
“No, I don’t think you do.” Belosveka leaned forward. “Once you enter this world, you can’t go back. You’ll never have a normal life.”
Vaye scoffed, looking away. “I never have.” She fiddled with her tankard, then sighed and looked back at Belosveka. “I’ve seen what you can do, Bel. I know you’re not just the head of some merchant guild. And as for me... I’m not sure what I am or what I’m capable of. To figure that out, I need to know the truth.”
Belosveka nodded, leaning back. “Very well, then. The truth. You’re correct, I’m not just the Minister of Trade, although I do actually hold that title. But I’m also the head of a network of Dzharian spies. Our goal is to topple the Vorkyrda, reverse the spread of the Sarmalan Empire, and restore the balance of power to Telua.”
“I knew it!” Vaye exclaimed. “Are you a master of disguise? Can you melt seamlessly into the shadows, like a shred of night itself?”
“Honestly, it’s mostly paperwork,” Belosveka said. With Vaye, it was sometimes hard to tell sarcasm from genuine enthusiasm. “It takes patience more than anything. Gathering information that might one day be useful, recruiting assets and maintaining relationships over many years. In both cases, the hard part is separating the silver from the slag.”
“And which of those am I?” Vaye said quietly. “Something precious, or something to be discarded once the useful stuff is mined?”
“You made the choice to leave,” Belosveka said sharply, her patience finally beginning to fray. “I tried to convince you to stay.”
“But only if I obeyed your rules,” Vaye said. “No exploration, no experimentation. No talking to other Anashi. I was free to be your prisoner.”
“Those rules were for your own protection. After the incident with the nownow—”
“Yes, of course!” Vaye exclaimed, throwing her hands in the air. “Can’t have a conversation without bringing that up, can we?” She stood suddenly, slapping her hands on the table hard enough to splash ale out of her mug. “Well, you know what, Bel? Maybe you don’t know as much as you think you do. Maybe you have no idea what I was actually—”
“The Tashiya,” Belosveka interjected. Vaye slowly sat back down, her shock confirming Belosveka’s guess. “I didn’t understand back then, but I’ve learned a great deal. About High Anashic, and about Grandmother.”
“That knowledge is sacred,” Vaye whispered. “We’re forbidden to speak of it to outsiders.”
“Being head spy has its benefits.” Belosveka slid her tankard aside and leaned forward. “Vaye, listen to me. What you are attempting is incredibly dangerous. Remember what happened to The Undone. Their civilization was powerful beyond our comprehension, and all that remains of them now are ruins. Grandmother annihilated them.”
“That’s one version,” Vaye said. “The Anashi have a different history. Ours says that Grandmother was only protecting us from the gods of other nations, who were jealous of our power. It was them who started the War of Winds. She just finished it.”
“Either way, you’re playing with something far beyond your ability to understand or control.”
“And now that you’ve studied Anashic for a few years, you think you understand Her?”
“No!” Belosveka exclaimed. “I pretend no such thing. I’m not sure She’s within our capacity to understand. But don’t you think it would be wise to try to understand Her as much as possible before unleashing Her on the world again?”
Vaye leaned back, crossing her arms. “Maybe. What’s your interest in all this, anyway?”
“Aside from avoiding another apocalypse?”
“You know what I mean. There’s something you want. I’m not a fool.”
Belosveka sighed. “No, you’re not. You just haven’t seen what I have. I used to think that if the right ideas reached the right people, reason would prevail. Then I learned the ugly truth: reasonable people do not seek to rule, nor do the powerful follow any law but their own. The only way to change things is to attain power yourself. And I wish to change things, Vaye.”
“I’m sure the Vorkyrda says the same thing. What makes you any different?”
“Only that I keep asking myself that very question,” Belosveka said. “Dalanat Kenem doesn’t question her right to rule. She has absolute faith in her own superiority. That’s why she must be destroyed.”
Vaye took a piece of bread and loaded it with mushrooms and peppers, which was good. When an asset felt comfortable enough to eat, it was a sign of growing trust. “Sounds like you have it all figured out,” she said around a thick mouthful. “So what do you need me for?”
Belosveka resisted the urge to remind Vaye to swallow her food before speaking. “When you are dealt a powerful card, you are wise to hang onto it, for a moment will always come when it is ready to be played.”
Vaye nodded, as though she had been waiting to hear those words. “So I was right. To you, I’m just a card to be played. You want me to be your weapon.”
“No, I want you to be your own weapon, because my enemies are also yours. The Sarmalans are a scavenger culture. They create nothing. They stole the power of the storm from the Anashi, just as they stole Thelenza from the Cantereians. If they are not stopped, they will steal all of Telua. We want the same thing, Vaye. Why seek the Tashiya, if not to overthrow your oppressors?”
“I just want my people to have a home. A place where we can be safe.”
“Yes, but not just any place, I think. For Anashim, there is only one home. Anash.” She paused, waiting for Vaye to acknowledge what she’d said. “Empire is a beast that must grow or die, and the Vorkyrda has desired Anash ever since she ceded it to Dzhar in the armistice. While the Helix exists, Anash will never be free.”
“And what about Dzhar? They’ll just hand Anash over if I ask politely?”
Belosveka shrugged, taking a chunk of bread herself. “As I said, I am interested in restoring the balance of power. For there to be balance, power must be distributed among several parties. Anash could be one of those parties again, instead of a scrap to be fought over by the rest.”
“But how? How could that ever happen, and how could I possibly...” Vaye trailed off, and Belosveka was suddenly reminded of just how young the Anashi was. She acted so self-assured that it was easy to forget there was a girl under there. Belosveka understood what it was like to be more than just a person. But just as she had learned to bear the weight of her own power, so Vaye would have to carry hers.
“The School of the Storm,” Belosveka said. “Your path begins there.”
Vaye laughed. “Yeah, right. Why don’t I just go ask to be Vorkyrda? There’s no way they’re letting me in there.”
“You underestimate yourself. I believe getting into the School is well within your capability. It’s a place where you can hone your talents. It also contains the largest collection of intact Anashic artifacts in the world—including Anash, I’m sorry to say.”
Vaye’s eyebrows lifted at that, but her voice was still skeptical. “I don’t know. I just... What if I can’t do it?”
Belosveka steepled her fingers, meeting Vaye’s eyes. “You said you wanted to figure out who you are, what you’re capable of. It’s time to put yourself to the test. Either that, or go back to living off other peoples’ scraps.”
From long experience, Belosveka knew what it looked like when an asset made the fateful decision to commit. Seeing that expression on someone’s face was usually a moment of immense satisfaction, the culmination of years of effort. This time, though, all she felt was an inexplicable sense of loss.
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