28. Ready to Sacrifice (Gadarien)¶
Gadarien knew at least a dozen routes from the School to the Cantereian Quarter: shortcuts through storerooms and drainage canals, trap doors under bags of grain, even a passage through a latrine, if you were that desperate to evade Sarmalan attention. But he’d never hidden his face before. The scarf felt unnatural, although he understood its necessity. Like it or not, he was known in the community now, and not in a positive way.
The Cantereian Quarter sprawled westward from Daybreak Yard all the way to the Eyewall, a maze of shanties and slipshod construction. Of course, all of Thelenza had once been the “Cantereian Quarter”, but the Sarmalans had taken the most desirable parts of town for themselves. The wine merchant’s shop where he was meeting Teira was on the opposite end of town from the School, in a rough part of the Quarter that even Feiçeira usually avoided.
He arrived early, but Teira was already seated, sipping wine from a wooden mug and resting her forearms on the empty barrel that served as a table. The proprietor, a narrow-chested man with graying hair and oddly familiar features, was leaning on a stack of barrels with his arms crossed, nodding at something the Guiasa had said. He gave Gadarien an unimpressed once-over, then nodded to her and departed through a flap in one of the canvas walls.
“Is it safe to talk here?” Gadarien said as the flap settled into place.
Teira took a sip of her wine and set it down carefully on the uneven surface. “As safe as anywhere. The shops around us don’t open until morning.” She gestured to the other stool, a simple wooden tripod with a triangular canvas seat. It wobbled threateningly as he balanced on it.
“The shopkeeper looks familiar.”
“His brother is a partisan,” Teira said. “One of the kids executed by cynosure a few months ago was his nephew. He was arrested for tearing up his winning ticket at the Raising.”
Gadarien remembered the partisan’s anger, directed as much at him as the Helix. He only hoped the man would be granted a swift death. “They weren’t part of our operations, were they?”
“No, they were Tementeira.” The zealots had been gaining strength in Cantereia for years, and were becoming more prevalent in Thelenza as well. “I’m not sure if those kids were even doing anything illegal in the first place. But Tementeira operations have been making things difficult for us.”
“What can we do about it?” Gadarien said, eager to be included in a discussion of broader strategy for once.
“Not much, for now,” Teira said with finality. “But that’s not why I brought you here. How are your studies going? Learn anything interesting?” Her tone had shifted, making her sound like the kind of gentle aunt he knew she wasn’t.
He bit back a laugh. They both knew he wasn’t really at the School to learn, or at least not to learn what the Helix was teaching. But although he understood the basics of his mission—observe from the inside, recruit potential allies, perform additional tasks when asked—he had only a vague idea of the end goal. He felt like a carpenter trying build a house while only knowing the shape of one doorframe. “I’ve learned that Preceptor Yobaza has a heart like a rotting stump,” he said. “But I’m pretty sure you already knew that.”
“We did,” Teira confirmed, deadpan.
“Meeting me here seems like a big risk, just to make sure I’m doing my schoolwork,” Gadarien said.
Teira slid her cup of wine out of the way and leaned forward. “I’ve been hearing some things,” she said, “about you and your recruits.”
“What things?” Gadarien said. He wondered who had been talking. Ruelso, it had to be.
“That you’re getting attached. And that you’re focusing all of your attention on two targets and ignoring the rest.”
“Compared to those two, the rest aren’t worth a damn.”
Teira leaned back, crossing her arms. “Convince me, then. What makes them so special?”
Gadarien steepled his hands on the upturned barrel, trying to reign in his irritation with Ruelso. “Adranaya’s family is as close to the aristocracy as you can get without actually being related to the Vorkyrda. And she’s a believer in our cause, almost as much as we are. If we want to get rid of the Helix, we’re going to have to replace it with something. We need people like her on our side, people with influence.”
Teira raised an eyebrow, leaving her arms crossed. “And the Anashi?”
He wasn’t sure how to explain Vaye. Objectively, recruiting her didn’t make much sense. She was an outlier in every way, not someone who would ever be able to blend in as a spy or infiltrate the halls of power. Yet something about her had drawn him in, a kind of latent power like a dam about to burst. As he’d gotten to know her, that impression had only gotten stronger.
Teira, however, required a less mystical answer. “She has the greatest natural ability I’ve ever seen,” he said. “She came in years behind everyone else, yet she regularly does things no one else can do. During the Quartertrial, she raised a whirlwind that almost dropped the School’s bell on our heads. It was terrifying. I don’t think she even realizes how powerful she is. If we could turn her into a Feiçeira, she’d be an army by herself.”
Teira smiled, and Gadarien realized his mistake. “So it’s true,” she said. “You have gotten attached.”
He cursed his foolishness. Of course Teira already knew everything she needed to know about Adranaya and Vaye. If she hadn’t approved of his choices, she would have intervened long ago. But in the course of defending them, he had leaked his emotions into his voice, walking right into her trap. He might have been able to hide his feelings from a normal Feiçeira, but Teira was the Guiasa of their cell for a reason. He focused himself, pressing his palms against the barrel to keep them from turning into fists. “I’m committed to the mission,” he said.
“I believe you,” Teira said. “But it’s possible to be committed to more than one thing. The problem comes when you have to choose.”
“If I have to, I—”
“Gada,” Teira said, putting her hand on top of his. “Listen to me. Getting emotionally attached to the people you’re recruiting doesn’t make you a bad agent. It makes you human.”
Surprising himself, Gadarien felt himself beginning to tear up. He clenched his jaw, dragging his emotions back down. “What is this about, then?”
“We have agents who feel nothing, who can kill without remorse. People like Ruelso. They have their uses. But you’re different, Gada. You have passion, fire in your soul. That’s why I chose you for this assignment. Someone like Ruelso could never do what you’re doing.”
“And what exactly am I doing?” Gadarien said, a ragged edge of frustration forcing its way into his voice. “You have agents far more experienced than I am, like Eiadane. Why did you send for me?”
Teira sighed, withdrawing her hand. “There are areas our senior agents can’t get to, like the Hall of Vapors. Skilled as he is, Eiadane couldn’t have done what you did, gotten us the measurements we needed. And you know perfectly well that I can only tell you what you need to know, which is to be ready to open the service tunnel when you receive the signal. But I summoned you down here tonight because I need you to understand something.”
She paused expectantly, making sure Gadarien was truly listening. He took a moment to center himself, calming his breathing, hearing the entirety of the moment. Watching him, she nodded and continued.
“I picked you for this assignment because of how committed you are, how much you care about Cantereia and the people you love. Don’t ever doubt that. I want you to get attached, to forge the kind of connections that can’t easily be broken. I want you to fall in love.” Gadarien didn’t know how to respond to that, but she obviously didn’t expect him to. “But I need you to understand that the thing that makes you good at this mission also comes at a cost,” she continued. “It requires sacrifice. And for those of us who feel deeply, who allow ourselves to love, those sacrifices hurt much more. I need you to hear that, to know what I’m asking of you.”
Gadarien straightened, meeting her eyes. He touched two fingers to his throat in the formal salute of the Feiçeira. “I hear you, Guiasa. I’m ready to sacrifice anything.”
Her answering smile was the kind you might see at a funeral.
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