Page 122 of City of Stone and Silence

I did. Hasaka hadn’t wanted to. “Give me a moment. I’ll be right out.”

Giniva lets the curtain fall. I draw in a deep breath, hold it, let it out.

It’s true that Isoka wouldn’t have wanted any of this. She protected me, kept me safe, tried to keep me innocent.

But she’s gone. Maybe dead. But maybe lost and needing help. The only one who knows is Kuon Naga, and the only one who can get him to tell is me. I’ll break his mind like an egg, if I have to.

First, though, I have to get to him.

I get up, dress in my sweat-stained clothes, trousers and a tunic and a leather vest. Pulling them on makes me wish for my wardrobe back in the Second Ward, and I wonder if it’s still there, if Ofalo, Ridatha, and the others are all right. I wonder what Ofalo thinks happened to me, and what he would think if he knew the truth.

Giniva is waiting outside. Behind her, the common room is filling up with people. Hasaka stands over the big table, looking down at a recently inked map of the Sixteenth Ward. Men and women in red sashes wait behind him, ready to run messages out into the city.

Pointless. We’re too far away from the front to exercise any kind of control here. Hasaka’s instinctive caution has kept him far from where he can do any good. Hotara, at least, knows better—she’s down in the Sixteenth Ward, at the wall, where her expertise as a street fighter might help.

“Tori!” Hasaka says. He doesn’t look happy to see me.

“Giniva says it’s starting.”

“We’ve got word the Ward Guard are forming up,” he says. “Could be a false alarm.”

I doubt it. This feels right. They’ve had more than enough time to prepare.

“I’m going down there,” I say.

“I wish you wouldn’t,” he says. “You know how important you are to this movement.”

More important than you know. Without my little pushes, there wouldn’t be a rebellion, more than likely. Does that put all of these deaths on my shoulders? At the time, every step had seemed so obvious.

“Your plan is in place,” he continues. “We can oversee things from here.”

He’s not wrong, at least as far as he knows. I’m no strategist, just a girl who’s read a couple of books. I’m not likely to be able to contribute more than symbolic leadership. What he doesn’t know, of course, is that my power may be the only hope we have.

“I need to see,” I tell him. “I’ll be careful, I promise.”

Hasaka sighs heavily. “Take Jakibsa with you, then.”

I frown, but it makes sense. Jakibsa is one of our only Tartak adepts, and by far the most well-practiced. His powers can protect us from any stray arrows, at the very least. I nod, and Hasaka beckons his lover over from where he was huddled with a pair of messengers. They have a hurried conference, sotto voce, and then Hasaka leans in and kisses the younger man with a fervor he rarely displays in public.

“Bring her back,” Hasaka mutters. “And bring yourself back, too.”

“Of course.” Jakibsa gives me a bright, fake smile, hideous on his burned face. “Shall we?”

Giniva follows us. No one questions if she should go along.

Downstairs, wounded men and women are still laid out on the floor, though no longer packed quite so tight. Volunteers move among them, changing bandages and checking wounds, Grandma’s old assistants alongside fresh recruits. Kosura is among them, moving with slow, painful steps from still-healing wounds, a vivid contrast to her earlier grace. She looks up at me and smiles as I pass, but says nothing. It’s just as well. I don’t know what I would tell her.

Apart from red sashes running back and forth, the streets of the Eleventh Ward are as empty as I’ve ever seen them. The street stalls are empty, the wineshops closed with their shutters down. In every building, windows are covered with curtains or boarded over, and doors are firmly shut. The fighting isn’t close to here, not yet, but no one is taking any chances.

Without having to push through a never-ending sea of humanity, it’s a surprisingly short walk to the gate. Both sides of the military road are firmly in our control now, and a red-sashed young woman missing most of one arm greets us at the entrance to the Sixteenth District.

“Voliel Breta,” she says, saluting me. “Commander Hasaka left me in charge. My squad is ready to go on your command.”

She seems keen. I hope her squad are loyal people, because the odds are high some of them aren’t going to make it back. At least, not if everything goes according to plan.

There are so many things that could go wrong. I try not to think about it.

“You know your orders,” I tell her. “If you haven’t heard from me, and the enemy are getting close to the gate, don’t wait.”