Page 83 of City of Stone and Silence

“Are we sure this is the right direction?” I have a powerful urge to lean on him, let him wrap himself around me, but I fight it. Not now. “What if we point the way, and people die?”

“Then it will be our fault. ‘To command is to sacrifice.’” It sounds like a quote. “My father always says if you have confidence in yourself, you’re halfway there.”

“So we’re going to … what? Go out and try to convince people to help us?”

He nods eagerly. “That, I can handle. I’ve studied this. The great speakers, rhetoric lessons—Blessed, half my education is about giving speeches. Just find me a crowd.”

“I don’t know.” If confidence is the key, we’re in trouble, because mine is draining rapidly.

“It will work, I swear on the Blessed.” He glances sidelong at me. “You’re thinking that your sister might be there, too.”

“Yeah.” I swallow. “Or at least information on where they took her.”

His grin widens. “All the more reason to try.”

“But—”

But that makes it worse. Leading people—innocent people, strangers who have nothing to do with me—into danger would be bad enough if I thought it would help them. But leading them just for something personal feels—

Monstrous? The word comes from a voice in my head. Like twisting the mind of a poor pawnshop owner to make him help you, even if it gets him a beating? Like reaching into the souls of a squad of Ward Guard and driving them mad with fear?

Puppet strings, wrapping around my fingers—

If it helps people. I swallow. Grandma. Kosura. Isoka. If I can help them … save some of the others …

My private agonizing is interrupted by Hasaka, who looks unhappy. Giniva is trailing quietly behind him, at the head of a half-dozen other people.

“These are your volunteers,” Hasaka says. “I’m sorry there aren’t more. Everyone’s rattled, and going out on the streets … well.” He shakes his head. “We all want to help Grandma. They just aren’t sure they can do any good.”

“I’m grateful for any assistance,” Garo says.

“Giniva,” Hasaka says, “are you sure you want to do this? You’ve been in plenty of danger already.”

“Nobody is going to doubt your courage,” Garo says.

Giniva looks down at the floor, but she nods. Her voice is soft. “Better than waiting here.”

I examine the other volunteers. They all look like teenagers, some of the children who’d grown up under Grandma’s protection. Every one of them is older than Garo and me, but they’re looking at us with such deference it makes me uncomfortable. One of them, a gangly boy with a scruffy, fresh-sprouted beard, steps forward and clears his throat.

“We talked it over.” He looks back at his companions and gets a round of encouraging nods. “Grandma needs our help. She put herself in danger for years for our sake. We can’t sit around when the situation’s reversed.”

Garo smiles. The boy bows, and for a moment you’d have sworn Garo was the older one.

“What’s your name?” Garo says.

“Vekata,” the boy says. “My Well’s Rhema. Only a talent, but I’ll do what I can.”

The others introduce themselves, Garo greeting them like a feudal overlord accepting a vassal’s oath. For the first time since I woke up, I let my Kindre senses slip open. I have to fight not to close myself off at once, repelled by the huge cloud of fear and pain that fills the safe house. There’s fear in Vekata and his companions, too, but it’s shot through with red-gold determination. We should be able to rely on them.

Giniva is a surprise, though. A maelstrom of wild scents and spitting light hints at a storm of emotion she doesn’t let show. There’s determination there, too, but it feels like a thin skin hiding something darker. I give myself a shake as I pull my senses back in.

“We’d better move,” Garo says. “This needs to be finished by the time the sun comes up.”

Everyone nods. Hasaka opens the door to the deserted street, and we file out. I don’t need any special powers to read the mix of fear and shame on his face, and I linger behind the others.

“We’ll get them back,” I tell him. “You keep the kids safe here.”

He gives a jerky nod, and shuts the door behind me.