Page 112 of City of Stone and Silence

Hasaka nods, no more eager than I to confront the issue. We turn to head back to the safe house when another red sash, this one a young boy, hurries up, gasping for breath.

“Hasaka, sir.” No one has formal titles, but Hasaka’s people have started saying “sir,” mimicking soldiers they’d read about or seen on stage. “Miss Tori.”

“What is it?” Hasaka says. “Are we under attack?”

“No, sir.” The boy gulps. “Master Garo has returned. He wants to see Miss Tori right away.”

The former Immortal safe house—now de facto headquarters of the revolution—is surrounded by a phalanx of excited men and women in red sashes. Beyond these guards, a crowd is starting to gather, thin for now but growing by the minute. People catch sight of me and Hasaka and press closer, and our guards move up to keep them away with the hafts of their spears. A dozen questions are yelled to us at once.

“Has the Emperor given in?”

“Will the Immortals attack?”

“What did Master Garo promise them?”

“Down with the draft! Down with the Immortals!”

“Will there be an amnesty?”

“When can I go home?”

“Please,” I manage to say, shouting over all of them. “I need to speak to Garo. I’m sure he’ll tell everyone what’s happening soon.”

“Out of the way!” Hasaka barks.

A little shoving gets us to the cordon, and it parts to allow us inside. I hurry up the stairs, past the infirmary—emptier now, as more space across the city has been pressed into service to tend the wounded—and into the barracks that we use as a conference room. Hotara is there, one of the early street fighters who has turned out to be a reliable leader, an older woman weathered by years of hard labor. Giniva is waiting by the table as well, and Jakibsa, whose horrifically burned skin and frail form conceal considerable Tartak power, along with several red sashes I recognize as Hasaka’s immediate lieutenants.

“Where’s Garo?”

Hotara points to one of the bedrooms. “Resting. He said he wanted to talk to you as soon as you arrived.”

“Has he said anything?” Hasaka says. Hotara shakes her head.

I push through the curtain, heart suddenly clenched. I’m expecting the worst, but Garo is lying on his stomach on one of the sleeping mats, a little disheveled but otherwise none the worse for wear. He’s exchanged his mock-commoner garb for a noble’s clothes, a silk robe over a finely cut under-tunic and trousers, and he’s snoring furiously. I kneel beside him, hesitate for a moment, then shake his arm.

“Whuzz,” he says, or something to that effect, and groans. I smile slightly and poke him again, and he rolls over. “Is that—Tori!”

He sits up so abruptly that I topple backward, laughing. Garo blinks foolishly for a moment.

“Who were you expecting?” I ask.

“Nobody. Sorry. It’s just…” He shakes his head. “I haven’t slept since … night before last? Blessed above, it’s good to see you.”

He grins back at me, and the knot in my chest unclenches. “You too. But—” I glance at the curtain and keep my voice low. “Why haven’t you talked to anyone?”

“Wanted to tell you first. I might need your help.” His grin widens, and his eyes blaze. “Tori, we won.”

“What?” I shake my head. “What does that mean?”

“It means the Imperial ministry is ready to make concessions. You have no idea how seriously they’re taking this. I had an audience with the Imperial Chamberlain himself, and the entire Council of State. They agreed that we had legitimate grievances.”

“So what are they going to do?”

“Change on the Council, to start with. My father is going to become a member, and several of his allies, all from the liberal wing of the court.”

“Your … father?” My excitement, which had been starting to build, feels suddenly shaky, as though its foundation had washed out with the tide.

“I know, I had been dreading meeting with him,” Garo says happily. “Honestly I wondered if he wouldn’t disown me on the spot. But instead he congratulated me, if you can believe that, and said that he was impressed I had the courage to act on my beliefs.”