76. Words to Die By (Belosveka)¶
Belosveka had never been fond of sleeping outdoors, and she liked it even less now that she woke up stiff and aching every morning. Jovadão claimed to enjoy it, saying he had missed the open sky while cooped up in Thelenza, but as they neared their destination, her apprehension trickled down to him as well.
“What are we going to say to them?” he said. He was crouched by the fire, tearing up some leaves he’d stripped from a shrub and casting them into the pot of beans. Even after living in Thelenza for so long, his tolerance for cold remained limited, and he liked to set up a fire as soon as it started getting dark.
“I was thinking we’d start with ‘Hello’,” Belosveka replied, smoothing out her bedroll. She sat down heavily, yanking off her boots and rubbing her feet. The day’s march had been particularly grueling, the trail growing sharply steeper as a cold wind chafed their exposed skin. They’d spotted a thin column of smoke in the foothills that morning, although the map didn’t indicate anything nearby. Whatever it was, she’d been hoping to get there before nightfall, but it had proven too far for one day.
Belosveka had worked alone for most of her career. She’d learned secrecy and discretion early on, and had always embodied those ideals. But although she preferred her own company, Jovadão made a good travel companion. He knew how to move efficiently, at least once he’d sobered up, and he understood her moods. He was also an excellent camp cook. Most importantly, he was the one person in the world she didn’t have to keep secrets from. Helping him through his withdrawal for the fourth time was a small price to pay for that sense of liberation.
Still, neither of them were young anymore, and the journey from Thelenza had been hard. The collapsing Eyewall had devastated the countryside. The roads, where they weren’t washed out completely, were muddy and choked with refugees. Bridges were missing, upended trees blocked the trails, and inns were either closed or overcrowded. The bribes to get beds had been exorbitant. She winced at the thought of explaining her expenditures to the budget subcommittee back in Lietna.
The last leg of the trip had been the worst. Heading straight to Anash had allowed them to skirt the Soundless Marsh, but had still required crossing the Whirling Wastes. The Wastes were no longer Whirling so much as Squishing, which didn’t have quite the same ring to it. Rainfall had transformed the hard-packed white dust into a sticky gray morass. The crossing had felt like a forced march across an exposed brain, making even the desolate Anashi foothills seem pleasant by comparison.
Jovadão remained crouched by the fire, silently stirring the beans. She chuckled at his expression. “You worry too much,” she told him. “I’m a diplomat, remember?”
“We don’t even know if they’re still sane. The Gyre has driven many people mad. What if they take us for enemies?” He tasted the beans, frowned, and sprinkled some saltgrass into the pot.
“They’re just novitiates,” Belosveka said.”I think we can handle them.”
“You haven’t seen what she can do,” he replied quietly. He stood up and brushed his hands on his trousers. “Beans should be ready soon.”
“Hope you saved enough for me,” said a voice. Belosveka was on her feet in an instant, her hand on the taspara around her waist, her aching joints forgotten.
Jovadão, however, stood frozen, looking stunned. “I didn’t hear you,” he said, his patchwork skin gone pale.
“I didn’t want you to,” Gadarien said as he entered the clearing. Belosveka had only seen the young spy up close on one occasion, but even to her, the change was striking. His face was gaunt, all traces of boyhood gone, his youthful eagerness burned away. He carried himself now with a grim and lethal confidence.
“Are you...” Jovadão began, then shook his head. “It’s good to hear your voice, Nephew.”
Gadarien cocked his head and moved closer. Belosveka tensed, ready to lash out with her taspara, but the young Cantereian simply lifted his hand and touched Jovadão’s throat with two fingers. “You too, Uncle.”
Jovadão wrapped Gadarien in an embrace. The younger man stiffened for a moment before returning it. When Jovadão stepped back, he kept his hands on Gadarien’s shoulders as though afraid the youth would vanish. “Where are Vaye and Adranaya?”
Gadarien’s face grew somber. “Adra didn’t make it,” he said. His words came reluctantly, as though dredged up from a riverbed. “She died for us. Even after everything they did to her, she found the strength to sacrifice herself. And I was the one who brought her in. Her death is on me. How do I live with that, Uncle?”
Jovadão squeezed Gadarien’s shoulders. “It’s not just on you. We all share the blame. I was the one who sent you up that mountain.”
Gadarien wiped his nose, stepping back. “Was it worth it? Did we win?”
“The Eyewall has fallen,” Jovadão replied, breaking into a grin. “The Vorkyrda and the Healer are dead, and Sarmala’s power has been broken. Cantereia is free!”
“Good,” Gadarien said, although his answering smile looked a bit forced. “That’s good.”
“You did that, Nephew. You should be proud.”
Gadarien nodded, but his attention seemed to be elsewhere. Belosveka heard a breeze sweep down from the hills to rattle the leaves all around them, somehow seeming to chase itself around the perimeter of the clearing without entering it. “Who is this?” Gadarien said, finally turning to Belosveka.
“This is Belosveka, the woman who freed me from the Helix,” Jovadão said. “She helped Teira create the plan that took down the Eyewall.” He stepped back, frowning at the mysterious wind. “She’s an ally and a friend,” he concluded distractedly.
“Is she?” said another voice, cold as frost. Belosveka turned slowly, dread coiling around her heart.
What emerged from the trees made no sense. The nightmarish forms of the Grandchildren were unmistakable, their black grins seared into Belosveka’s memory. But instead of the skittering, chaotic movements she remembered, they now marched two-by-two, using clawed forelimbs to balance long wooden poles on their shoulders. Seated atop the poles like an empress on a throne was the Anashi.
Lightning flickered beneath Vaye’s skin, her glowing sclera setting her irises aflame. But there was no flowstream to speak of in the clearing, no meridians nearby.
Which meant the flowspring was Vaye herself.
The Grandchildren knelt smoothly and the Anashi stepped down, her smoldering gaze locked on Belosveka. “What are you doing here?”
Belosveka forced her muscles to relax, dropping her weapon and raising her hands placatingly. “The palanquin is a bit much, isn’t it?” she said with forced levity.
“It’s for dramatic effect,” Vaye said. “Did it work?”
“Yes,” croaked Jovadão, wide-eyed.
“Good,” Vaye said. “Fear keeps people away. All we want is to be left alone. So I’ll ask you again: why are you here?”
“We need your help,” Belosveka said simply.
Vaye laughed and approached the fire, seeming a bit more human as she entered the light. She sniffed the pot of beans, then lifted the spoon and gave them a taste. “Too much saltgrass,” she said. Jovadão frowned, but Vaye rounded on Belosveka, crossing her arms. “The last time we spoke, you sent me off to the School alone. There were so many times when I could have used your help, so much knowledge you could have armed me with. But when things got bad, you weren’t there. And now, after abandoning me, you show up wanting my help?”
“I never abandoned you,” Belosveka said. “I was always watching over you. You just didn’t see me.”
The Anashi rested her hands on her hips. “Forgive me if I don’t find that reassuring.”
“Fair enough,” Belosveka said. “I owe you a better explanation.” The adrenaline had buoyed her up temporarily, but now her exhaustion had returned. She sat down wearily and gestured for everyone to follow, hoping to diffuse the tension. Vaye lowered herself to the ground, Gadarien kneeling beside her and Jovadão crouching across the fire.
“As the head of Dzharian intelligence in Thelenza, one of my duties was to develop strategic relationships. I had made Jovadão’s acquaintance after the war, while he was... recovering in Dzhar.”
“Hiding in a bottle, more like,” Jovadão said with a chuckle. “You saved my life then, old friend. For the first time, but not the last.”
Belosveka nodded. “True. But it was more than friendship. When you returned to Cantereia, you gave me a connection to the Feiçeira. And when they sent you to Thelenza to play the role of defector, I hoped it would be the seed of the Helix’s downfall.” Vaye glanced at Gadarien, who nodded, hearing only the truth.
“Once Jovadão had worked his way up the chain of command, I contrived to get myself to Thelenza as well. But I knew there was a missing piece, some element that would allow us to take on the Vorkyrda herself.”
“An Apogee to defeat an Apogee,” Gadarien said.
“Yes,” Belosveka continued. “Dzhar hadn’t produced an Apogee in two generations, and the last Cantereian Apogee was killed in the war. I spent years chasing down dead ends. When I heard about an Anashi girl who could predict the weather, I didn’t give the rumors much credence. But Edeweri was on our way to Thelenza, so I decided to check, just in case. We arrived too late to save your mother, but not too late to save you. I saw your potential right away, but there was still a lot I didn’t know.” The Anashi said nothing, staring into the flames.
“In Thelenza, I coordinated with the Feiçeira and helped them plan their attack,” Belosveka continued. “The original idea was for Jovadão to kill the Healer, then somehow hold off the Vorkyrda long enough for Teira to deploy the Chord. But we needed someone on the inside to facilitate the attack. Someone who could pose as a novitiate and recruit additional assets.”
Gadarien sat forward suddenly, snapping his fingers. “That’s it! I knew I’d seen you before, but couldn’t place you. I ran into you coming out of the safehouse.”
“Yes. I’m hard to forget,” Belosveka said. “That’s why I usually rely on others for fieldwork. Anyway, Teira was initially against letting you recruit Vaye. Too unpredictable, she thought. But I convinced her that it was worth the risk.”
“After the safehouse got raided, Teira said the leak hadn’t come from anyone in the cell,” Gadarien said. “It was you. You’re the reason all those Feiçeira died.”
“No,” Jovadão said. “Belosveka passed the intelligence to the Helix, but the plan was Teira’s. The Helix knew there were Feiçeira in the city, and I was already under suspicion. The raid was a way to make them think they had destroyed the cell and killed the Guiasa, and to reassure them of my loyalty.” He paused, pawing a tear away with his thumb. “We all knew what we were sacrificing.”
“And once we learned of the Vorkyrda’s plan to invade Cantereia, we realized it would create an opportunity to destroy the Eyewall while she was away. But Adranaya’s capture put everything at risk,” Belosveka said.
“Obviously, I wasn’t supposed to get caught rescuing her,” Jovadão said. “Fortunately, I had a rescuer of my own.”
“Teira understood how important the three of you were,” Belosveka added. “The Chord would take care of the Eyewall, but if we could take out the Vorkyrda at the same time, the entire Helix would crumble at a single stroke. It was an opportunity that might never come again.”
“Is that all people are to you?” Vaye said quietly, poking a stick into the fire. “Pieces on a board, opportunities that might become available? Is that what Adranaya was?”
“That’s one way of looking at it,” Belosveka said calmly. “But the more important question is, what would Adranaya have wanted? What did Teira want, or Nashara? Would any of them have chosen not to sacrifice themselves, knowing that their deaths would change the world?” She leaned forward, meeting Vaye’s gaze. “Teira said once that your values are worth precisely what you’re willing to sacrifice for them. I’ve tried to live by those words.”
“I’m well aware that you’re willing to sacrifice other people for your values,” Vaye spat. “But I’m done fighting for someone else’s dream.”
Belosveka frowned. It was time for the gloves to come off. “So you’re willing to unleash the storm, but not to rebuild what you’ve destroyed.”
“What I’ve destroyed?” Vaye said. “What are you talking about?”
Belosveka looked at Jovadão. “Tell her.”
“Killing the Vorkyrda created a vacuum,” Jovadão said grimly. “And Habsa Ravásie filled it. The Tementeira are spreading through Sarmala, killing everyone who disagrees with them. The things I’ve seen them do...” He took a deep breath, shaking his head. “It’s worse than the war.”
“You’re the one who sent us off to kill the Vorkyrda,” Vaye said.
“Yes, and I accept my responsibility for that,” Jovadão said. “That’s why I’m here. Are you going to accept yours?”
“So accepting responsibility means killing Ravásie for you? Once he’s dead, then what? Where does it end?” The wood popped, sending swirls of embers into the night. Vaye crossed her arms, staring at the smoke. “I’m not interested in being your pet assassin. I wasn’t before, and I’m not now.”
“The decision isn’t yours alone,” Belosveka said, turning toward Gadarien. The young spy sat with his shoulders hunched forward, grinding his fist into his palm. “The Tementeira are erasing centuries of Cantereian culture, silencing the old songs. They will scratch out all traces of the Feiçeira, even while marching to victory atop their sacrifice.”
Gadarien locked eyes with Vaye for a long moment. Neither of them spoke, but something beyond words passed between them. Vaye sighed deeply, then pushed herself to her feet and turned to Belosveka. “Fine. We’ll help you. But I’m doing it for Gadarien, not for you. And I’m doing it my way.”
“Which way is that?” said Jovadão.
Vaye responded by stretching her arms wide and lifting her chin. Her veins and eyes flared, momentarily brighter than the fire. Once again Belosveka heard the wind swirling around the clearing, but felt nothing other than a spike of doubt as she wondered what exactly she had conjured.
From the shadows between the trees, countless Grandchildren emerged, their eyes twinkling like stars. Belosveka realized with a chill that the sound hadn’t been wind at all, but the Grandchildren shaking the branches in huge waves, emulating a moving breeze to mask Vaye’s approach. The power and control required to do such a thing was beyond comprehension.
In eerie synchronicity, the creatures moved into the clearing, coming to a halt barely an arm’s length away. Jovadão whipped his head around, his alarm mirroring Belosveka’s own. The Grandchildren crouched in concentric rings, rank upon rank of them, stretching back into the darkness of the forest. Actually, Belosveka realized, the ranks weren’t quite concentric—the closest ring terminated next to Vaye, beginning a single, vast spiral.
It was hard to look at the Anashi. Her eyes were like flares, even her teeth shining like the moon. “Grandmother never had any power of her own,” she said. “It all came from us. It’s in our connection to each other, our single shared soul, and the fewer of us there are, the more concentrated it becomes. So if I killed everyone else in the world, maybe I’d become a god.” Vaye smiled, and Belosveka shivered.
“I learned something recently, though,” the Anashi continued. “Some wise words from a friend.” Her smile fell as she looked at Belosveka with an expression that almost seemed like pity. “Anyone who wants power that badly shouldn’t be allowed to have it.”
She made a tiny motion, a simple flick of her wrist, and the Grandchild closest to her calmly slashed its neighbor across the throat with a hooked claw. Before it fell, the second creature did the same to the next in line. A wave of death spiraled outward through the Grandchildren, dark blood glittering out of their pale throats as they collapsed.
Finally, only the first ghoul remained, crouched before Vaye like an acolyte. She laid a gentle hand on its bald skull, smiling down in benediction. It looked up at her adoringly, its features blank and innocent as fresh snow, as it raised a claw to its own throat and ended itself.
Belosveka swallowed. With great effort, she calmed her breathing and mastered her fear. “What do you want?”
“I want a home for myself and those I love,” Vaye said, glancing at Gadarien. “And I want a home for my people. But if the price of our home is destroying someone else’s, then maybe we don’t deserve one.”
The Anashi lowered her arms. The glow dissipated from her eyes and faded from beneath her skin, her veins guttering out like candles until, at last, she was only human. Gadarien went to her side, taking her hand. “We’ll come with you to Thelenza and help you set things right,” Vaye said. “But not to hand the throne over to Dzhar, or the Feiçeira, or anyone else. As soon as we see someone start hoarding power, that’s the sign for the rest of us to take it away.”
“Who will rule, then?” Jovadão said.
“Why does someone have to?” Vaye countered. “Maybe people don’t do bad things because they’re bad people. Maybe their circles are just too small.” She shrugged. “All I know for sure is that there’s only one kind of power that’s worth having.” She smiled at Gadarien, and for a moment, some trick of the firelight made it seem like a third person stood between them, a lithe suggestion of form drawn from the smoke.
The Anashi’s gaze swung over to Jovadão, then came to rest on Belosveka, reading the skepticism in her raised brow. “And what kind of power is that?” Belosveka said.
Even without the glow of magic, Vaye’s smile was brighter than the moonlight spilling over the mountains. “The kind that’s shared,” she said. And, perhaps for the first time, Belosveka knew that smile was meant for her.
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