Page 82 of City of Stone and Silence

“Why not?” Jakibsa says. “They’re right there. They have to be.”

“Right where?” I ask.

“Leftmark Road,” Giniva says quietly. “I asked some people who watched the raid. They said the prisoners weren’t taken to the regular guardhouses, but to a building on Leftmark Road, and now it’s surrounded by guards.”

“We can’t be certain of that,” Hasaka says. “Things have been confused. And even if it’s true, what are we supposed to do about it? Attack them?”

“You fought the Immortals when they broke in to the sanctuary,” I point out.

“Much rotting good it did.” Hasaka looks on the verge of tears. “Gaf’s dead. Vidge, Henka, Meiko—she was just a rotting kid, for Blessed’s sake.” He glances at me, then looks down at the table. “Blessed knows how many more, and we barely got away.”

There’s a moment of silence.

“What happened to Old Sewa?” I say.

“He went down fighting,” Jakibsa says quietly. “Like the old days.”

I take a deep breath, throat strangely thick.

“It doesn’t have to be just us, though,” Jakibsa goes on. “You said yourself that people are in the streets because they don’t like what happened to Grandma. If we give them a chance to help rescue her, we’ll have an army behind us! We might not even have to fight.”

“And we might as well paint ourselves like an archery target,” Hasaka says. “A mob’s not an army, and when the Ward Guard come back we’d find that out quick. Chanting and throwing rocks is one thing, hard fighting with real troops is something else.”

The pair of them glare at each other.

“I think we need to do both,” I say. I wish my voice didn’t sound so thin. “Prepare for the worst, obviously, and get as many children away as we can. But if we have a chance to help Grandma and the others, I think we should take it. We won’t get another.”

“Tori’s right,” Garo cuts in. “We have to try.”

There’s a strained, quiet moment. And then, somehow, Hasaka and Jakibsa—older and more experienced than either of us—are both nodding. It’s something about Garo’s tone, I think, simultaneously commanding and eminently reasonable, the voice of authority. Something you learn, I suppose, as a nobleman’s son.

“I can try to get in touch with Grandma’s contacts,” Hasaka says. “Get the evacuation started.”

“I’ll manage things here,” Jakibsa says. He looks ruefully at his maimed hands. “I might be a little conspicuous out on the street.”

“Tori and I will handle that,” Garo says, so authoritative I find myself nodding. “Though any volunteers to back us up would be welcome.”

“I’ll put the word out,” Hasaka says. “But what exactly are you going to do?”

“People are angry and scared,” Garo says. “They just need a little leadership to point them in the right direction.”

“A little leadership?” I say.

Garo has the grace to look embarrassed. “It’s true.”

“You know this is crazy, right?”

We’re standing by the main warehouse doors. Hasaka is talking to the other mage-bloods in small groups, looking for volunteers to help us, while Jakibsa tries to scrounge up some more durable clothing for me.

“What’s crazy?” Garo says.

“You and me being any kind of leaders here,” I say. “What in the Blessed’s name do we know about being in charge of a … a rebellion?”

“Nothing,” Garo says. “But neither does anyone else.” He’s far too cheerful for my taste. “They trust you, Tori. You were Grandma Tadeka’s right hand.”

“I was…” I stop. I can’t tell him that Grandma only wanted me because my Kindre powers let her sniff out traitors. “That doesn’t mean anything.”

“They’re scared and angry, like I said.” Garo puts his hand on my shoulder. “They just need someone to point them in the right direction.”