Silk fire, p.29
Silk Fire, page 29
Sunlight shied from her as she reached welcomingly for Ria.
Ria’s knees trembled. Even aloft, I fought the urge to tremble. Dzkegé’s shade hadn’t matched the shadow-Shaper in dark glory. I wanted to bow and acknowledge her mastery. I am nothing, and I will die.
“Fuck off, murder asshole!” Ria shouted, and lifted her bracers.
Staff raised, cloaked in shadow, Tamadza flung herself at the High Master.
The Sashua Vorona pulsed. Lightning met Tamadza’s chest. Thunder clapped. The scent of ozone leapt high.
“Now!” Faziz shouted, lifting his sword. “Hit the right angle!”
The air whistled around us as I dove. Faziz screamed, knocking sword against baton in discordant rhythm. I added my shriek to his as we shot past the pit in a torrent of sound.
Tamadza spun towards us, clasping her hands over her ears. Ria gasped and released an ice torrent, imprisoning the necromancer from the waist down. I twisted. Light glinted off my neck, flashing into Tamadza’s eyes.
“What are you boys doing here?” Ria called.
“Helping!” Faziz said.
“Cool. Don’t stop!”
I beat my wings hard, rising in a hot air stream. Faziz pressed low to my back. With a whip of my tail, I flipped downward for a second pass.
Tamadza fired.
The violet bolt caught my wing. The limb vanished into nothingness. I spun down like an unbalanced top, Faziz clinging to my neck. Shield him. My dragon’s form dissolved human. I pinned him against my chest as I hit, back first.
Concrete cut my skin as I skidded. Stone broke under my head. Something cracked in my chest. I tasted blood.
Faziz took my hand and pulled me up. “Breathe. You’re okay.”
“Dzkegé’s mercy. This is madness. How can you stay calm?”
“I’ve survived worse. At least Tamadza’s not trying to collect late rent.” Cool focus filled his eyes, courage forged in a thousand fearful nights, a survivor’s knowledge they could walk through fire and find another side.
I knew that, too. No space for fear lived in this moment.
Lightning cracked. The Sashua Vorona pulsed at Ria’s throat. Bolt after white-hot bolt leapt from her hand. Tamadza swept her staff in a loop, dissolving missiles into sparks. The ground shuddered as she stepped forward. Ria’s ice shield cracked at the touch of her finger.
“No!” I shouted. Instinct drove me forward. Silk fire poured from my throat, washing the combatants. Ria grinned like a god, punching Tamadza with a sphere of lightning. The Shaper’s corpselike beauty faded. She stumbled half a step at the blow.
“Keep hitting her!” Ria ordered, lifting both her arms. Waves of fire and lightning surged against Tamadza. The air boiled as I added my breath. Silver flame ate at her shadow store.
Tamadza howled. Her fierce visage wavered. For a moment, I wondered if enough essence would free her mind of whatever deeper darkness held it. The power of my fire. As I’d suspected. As Eprue Zucho had confirmed. The bright truth of dragon’s fire broke destruction’s hold. The dragons before me stood against evil. I’m the one who can lift their standard today.
But Tamadza’s power ran deceptive and deep. Runes of liquid violet blossomed up her arms, freely spawning shadows. With a sweep of her staff, she knotted them into a cord and fired downward. Concrete shifted. Stones ground to powder. A tunnel opened below.
“No!” Ria shouted. Ice exploded beneath the shadow-Shaper, thick and unmelting, blocking her escape. “You’ll pay for the Hive!”
I grabbed Ria’s hand to steady myself. Her essence flowed until I could crush buildings. Two fresh wings, whole and healed, unfurled from my back. My breath pinned Tamadza down, draining her as she clawed my fire from her skin.
Faziz clambered across the crumbled stone behind Tamadza. Too close. My heart twisted. I summoned scales, letting them flash down my chest. Tamadza screamed, reaching to cover her eyes—
His sword flashed through bone. Tamadza’s head dropped from her shoulders.
The shadow-Shaper fractured like glass. Her skin and bones crumbled into a billowing purple cloud. The holdshadow pulsed at the heart of her staff. The screaming remnants of her soul dissolved into its substance.
Ria caught the staff as it fell.
“Holy shit. I did it.” A smile cracked the grime on her face. “I avenged them. I won.”
Faziz wrapped an arm about her shoulders. “We make a pretty good hero team. Get over here, Red Eyes. Group hug.”
Still stunned, I fell into their embrace. I couldn’t quite remember how to stand. A team? On this nightmare adventure, we’d become that and more. My bright fire. My dark flame. The two lights in my world. I barely know you. I can’t live without you. I nearly said as much, but a flicker of motion caught my eye.
My breath caught. I pointed up at the hovership.
Together, we watched it fall from the sky and crash into the ruins below.
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
The High Kiss, within the eastern sculpture of The Surrender
14th Reshi, Year 92 Rarafashi
“Riot is second in disasters only to plague. The Pleasure District proved so when it died, as cries to dismantle the judgeship system provoked guards to raze buildings while hunting anarchists. War, Scholarly and Coldwater have all barely escaped fatal riots. Affordable housing policies in Engineering and Warmwater have minimized the contributing factors.”—Urban Planning 202 lecture at the Archive University
“Our dragons are all dead.”—gambling slang of upper Victory Street, expressing frustration at a run of bad luck
“There. Right in the—no, further.”
I bit back a frustrated hiss. I’d left my good toys in Engineering, and my backup wand wasn’t standard length. Worse, it was clenched between my teeth.
“Slower,” Shethgefeo said. “I’ve had a stressful week.”
I craned my neck, curling my tongue about the wand. The old wine importer was short. Trapped between her thighs and the bed, my cramping ankles cuffed to a post, I couldn’t maneuver.
“Three of my suppliers want to bid for that cleared land in Engineering. The Judge and the High Master are feuding over who owns the site. They both want a bigger—ah, there!— payout. Vashathke’s right to denounce greedy Engineers! Ow!”
I’d bitten her labia. Hard.
All legal records of the Hive’s ownership had been destroyed during the genocide of the Iron Speakers, millennia ago. Ria insisted, following salvage and an independent investigation, the site be returned to their descendants, and Źeposháru Rena had written several strongly worded consolation letters to dissuade her.
“More than money,” she’d said, “I need to do the right thing. And I need to know everyone involved in Tamadza’s plot is caught. I need proof of what really happened.”
I needed proof too. Vashathke’s campaign momentum had slowed since Źeposháru Rena and Toźätupé endorsed Akizeké. Tamadza’s choice of target reflected his hatred of the Fire Weavers. Hard evidence to implicate him in the Hive bombing would sink his campaign—Rarafashi might even bring criminal charges against him. He couldn’t conquer the city-planet from inside a cell.
“You’re a bad boy,” Shethgefeo cooed. “Kiss me to apologize.”
I should be happier, I thought, sucking the small slit toward the front of her. Akizeké’s endorsement count had skyrocketed. Eleven international and twenty-two domestic to Vashathke’s thirteen and twenty-nine. Seventeen and thirty-eight lay in grasping distance for both campaigns, but Akizeké was determined her fist would be first to grab the prize.
That’s not it. Maybe I was irritated no one was investigating the crashed hovership. Tamadza’s personal assets had to contain evidence against Vashathke, but Akizeké’s guard had marched into the border ruins and barricaded the site. No, that’s not it either. Akizeké would give me access if I asked.
“Don’t you love me?” Shethgefeo asked. “Isn’t this fun?”
“Yes, dzaxa,” I muttered, trying not to drop the wand.
No. It wasn’t politics that rankled. When I closed my eyes, I saw Ria and Faziz. Starlight and freedom. Electric fire filling me when we’d fought Tamadza, the sweet dreamlike moment I’d imagined a life outside War. Her kiss. His smile. Love to open my soul and change everything inside it.
The thought threatened to provoke scales down my spine. I recalled Vashathke’s threats diminishing me at the state banquet and bit down feelings until my client left.
Evening wind from the balcony dried my freshly washed chest and hair as I sorted booking requests. A repeat client of Neza’s needed entertainment at her daughter’s birthday party, which sounded safe enough. An actor wanted Ruby after a party at the Entertainment District embassy, harmless. Bero, a dzaxa graduation party in the Archive… no, not with drugs and darkness.
With a hushed, pleading step, Ria slid through my door. I leapt down from my private nook to join her.
“Goodbye, Koré.” A pack sat on her shoulders, topped by Tamadza’s staff. She’d tried to burn it after the hovership crashed, but the fire hadn’t caught. Ever since, she hadn’t set it down. “Thanks for letting me stay with the other girls while I did legal stuff. But I’ll be busy rebuilding my order, and you’ll need space for a new hire, so I’m moving to a hotel in the Archive. Take care.”
She turned. I caught her wrist, heart surging into my throat. You fool—but if she left, I’d unravel like torn crochet.
“Those Archive hotels are noisy,” I stammered. “I have a giant bed.”
Tears welled in her eyes. I kissed them away, grinning wide. Wrapped in each other, we stumbled across the floor. Her pack hit the ground. My back hit the bed. Warm, soft, and smiling, she landed atop me.
“Thank you,” she said, snuggling against my chest. “I couldn’t bring myself to ask.”
If you knew what I’d hidden from you, you’d leave. You should leave. “Please stay,” I said. “Be my…” Words stuck in my throat. “You say the next thing. I’m not good at romance.”
“You think I am?”
“You’re amazing at everything you do.”
“High praise, but fine, I’ll say it. Will you be my boyfriend? Officially?”
I couldn’t shake a yes loose. I nodded against her wash of dark curls.
She laughed. “It’s official. A boyfriend. I’m a real adult now.”
“Only now?” I teased. “Dueling Tamadza and saving every life in Jadzia didn’t cut it?”
“Tamadza could only kill me. You could break my heart.”
I most likely will. But I fought that fear with all the fire and light Dzkegé had seen in me. I’d never dared hope for this after Zega, but I’d found joy in the ruins. Once Vashathke was stopped, we could start a new life. Victory Street wouldn’t define me forever. Ria would never learn what I’d left behind.
The High Kiss cheered when we came down for breakfast holding hands. Ruby passed Bero a silver vodz. Opal smiled like his parents had gotten back together. Kge clapped Ria on the back. I ordered my employees to keep her presence silent, lest a High Master attract unwanted attention from those who hated Engineers. But the dzaxa of War had their sources, and soon a letter arrived from Akizeké inviting the High Master and me to dine.
“She wants Ria’s endorsement,” I told Faziz during our sparring session the next morning. He waited at the far end of a catwalk, patient grace behind his blade. My wrists stung from a blow he’d landed. “What should I do? I’ve kept Ria from the campaign. We need her support to win, but I hate manipulating my girlfriend.” Heat shivered through my chest at the last word. A promise of hope and sunshine.
Faziz’s sword dropped. My bright brain suggested the perfect wrist-flick to disarm him, but the frown on his brow arrested me. “What’s wrong?”
“Nothing. Look, just because you’re not ready to share all yourself with Ria doesn’t mean you should lie. Say Akizeké wants her endorsement and let her choose her path.”
“Right.” I laughed. “Sorry. I forget about honesty. I’m so used to people not caring, or even punishing me, when I don’t tell them what they want to hear. I love sharing her trust.”
A sneer weaved across his lips. He charged, pink neon holdlight flashing off leather-clad thighs, sword arching low. I pivoted, blocking—but he’d anticipated me. Our hips smashed together. Gasping from the blow, Faziz still danced in close and pressed my back against a catwalk railing. His blade rested in a cold line from my hip to my nipple.
“Practice honesty,” he growled. “And turning left.”
Something was off. “Does it bother you I’m dating Ria?”
“I like Ria. I’m happy for her.”
“But are you happy for me?”
“I don’t see why that matters.”
“Because I value your opinion.”
“My opinion is we’re done for today.” He fired a grappling hook into a slate stalactite, swung to the pillar his people were patching, and joined three grunting laborers forcing a holdweight brace into an opposing gravitational field. His thick, muscular shoulders trembled with strain. Sweat pooled in eddies of light down his back.
Had I done something wrong? Considering the matter with a practiced courtesan’s eye, I might conclude Faziz was jealous. He’d certainly flirted with me before—I was fairly certain—and I’d sparred with him every morning since our return from Engineering. We’d built a pathway of ropes and grapples up the Surrender’s side to connect his hideout and the High Kiss. But Ria’s love already felt too great a miracle. Two people wouldn’t want a monster—no, hate yourself less, see yourself as they do—wouldn’t want an untrustworthy courtesan like me.
Even armed with his advice, I tripped on dry-throated nerves when Ria met me in our room after lunch. “Magistrate Akizeké of Armory Street has invited us to dinner in her private museum. She wants you to formally endorse her candidacy for Rarafashi’s throne. She’ll offer the Fire Weavers financial support in exchange.”
“Sounds cool.” Ria grinned. “If she isn’t a terrible person, I’ll do it.”
Oh. Lightness bubbled up in my chest. Faziz had been right. Honesty worked.
“Boss?” Neza threw open the door. “Sorry. There’s noise—bad noise.”
With the door open, I heard footsteps pounding up the corridor outside the High Kiss. A roar of angry voices peaked near the entry arch. Calling my name.
Ria stood. The Sashua Vorona glinted at her throat. “Stay behind me, you two.”
The mob, armed with steel pipes and cooking knives, packed the High Kiss’s entry arch. Every hungry eye fell on me as we approached. Though my instincts screamed run, I tightened my fists and willed myself cool. My employees huddled in a nervous knot by the stairs. I had to protect them.
Greenwolf the baker headed the mob. Off-duty private guards massed behind her, some wearing the uniforms of employers I’d bribed to ignore my business. “Surrender, dragon,” she said, “and we won’t have to take you.”
I froze. Dzkegé’s mercy. How do they know?
“He’s not going anywhere.” Lightning gathered in Ria’s fist. “Sakri, he isn’t the dragon, he can’t—”
“You’ve flown with him, here and in your own district. The district Koreshiza Brightstar just visited. It’s greedy, keeping him all to yourself.” Her tone was joking, but her smile was false. “Step aside and I’ll split Vashathke’s bounty with you. Victory Street needs fresh essence.”
Ria raised both her bracers. Kge and Ruby lifted their batons. Opal trembled like a leaf. “No—” he said, his fear cutting like a whip.
The mob surged forward.
Curtains tore under their weight, ripping free in a gold and purple tide. Urns of flowers toppled, spilling dirt and blossoms. Hands reached for me, grabbing, pulling—
Ria’s fire swept back the crowd as she pulled me behind her. “All of you, out!”
Her foot twisted. I caught her as we stumbled—and the mob flooded past us. One pale pack ran straight for the bar, shoving goblets into sashes, hoisting liquor casks on shoulders. Knives slashed embroidery from hangings. Fists dragged neon holdlights from their moorings.
My business. Ria and I pressed our backs to the fountain. My haven. The thing I built for me.
They’d come to tear me down. I wouldn’t be so easily undone.
“Get the dragon!” called a high, clear voice. I flung a silver stool in the speaker’s direction. My mother’s baton flashed as I drew it free. She’d hate seeing me wield this. Especially to defend a brothel. How terribly unmarriageable it would make me. Good.
“Come and try!” I called.
Ria flung a wall of ice at the entry arch, knocking back invaders. Kge and Ruby hoisted a loveseat between them, ramming attackers off the bar. Bero’s eyes met mine as he herded the boys toward my bedchamber. “Don’t kill them!” he shouted before slamming the door.
He reads my true fury. No more hiding my fire. Hands seized my skirt. I shattered fingers and wrists with swirling loops of my baton. Rage bloomed as natural on my skin as silk and gentle touches.
“Whore!” spat an off-duty guard as I rammed my shiki into her shoulder. “Fucking essence thief!” I drove my foot into her stomach, knocking her back. So sweet. So easy. Scales prickled down my thighs, threatening to spread to my wrists and chest. Part of me fought to keep the dragon leashed, to center on cool logic—is this all coincidence? Did someone send this mob?—but my reason was vanishing into red.
“Stick close, Koré!” Ria flung sparks. A leaking barrel of alcohol—and the woman carrying it—ignited as a torch. I didn’t care. Burn them. They invaded my home to kidnap me. I hammered one attacker until she fell unconscious, broke another’s kneecap with a low blow, hoping my skirt hid my scales. I won’t be their prisoner. I won’t be their pawn—
A black glyph glittered on my wall. A bell-shaped poem, quickly drawn, the paint still fresh.
Faziz’s emblem.
“Disperse!” Dzaro’s voice rang over the mob. Her steel-armored guards pressed tight behind her, batons lifted behind silver shields. “Or I’ll sentence you all to tithe dull!”
