The Final Strife

“And the courts? They’d just bend over and say ‘do what you will’?”

“Well, yes, it’d take a long time and a lot of planning. I’d need allies to get the bills passed…”

“And those bloodwerk inventions you mention? You’re forgetting only Embers can bloodwerk. What will happen is the Embers will continue to be the most educated, the most revered, and we’re back to where we started.”

“No, no, it’ll take some time, but we could do it. We could change the empire for the better.” Anoor was firm, her swollen eyes clear and determined.

Sylah didn’t say anything; she was in awe of the woman in front of her. Anoor had solid plans to change things. It was more than Sylah had gotten from Jond.

They entered the Keep through the separate door reserved for the wardens and their families. The servants of the Keep kept fresh flowers hanging in vases on either side of the door, and the sickly sweet smell gave Sylah a headache.

On the way to Anoor’s room they stopped at the kitchen to collect the verd leaf tea Sylah desperately needed.

Kwame was cleaning pots in one of the white ceramic sinks, and he looked up when he saw them.

“Sylah, you missed lunch. I’ve saved you a roll.”

Sylah had given up trying to dissuade Kwame and let their friendship manifest.

“Anoor.” He threw his arms around her, spraying soap suds from his hands.

“Hi, Kwame,” Anoor said through squished cheeks.

“You look good,” he said, holding her at length. “Did you hear? There’s a sleeping sickness wave running through the Ghostings. They just tallied the deaths, and we lost over sixty on Ardae night. A lot of pyres burning.”

“Oh, no, that’s sad,” Anoor said.

“We’ve missed you at the library.”

“Sorry, we’ve been a bit busy training for the other trials.” Anoor wrung her hands.

“Oh yes! The trial of mind tomorrow. You worried?”

“No.”

Sylah wandered away from them and went to make her verd leaf tea. The container of herbs sat by one of the stoves that had a full bubbling kettle always on. She mixed in a large dollop of honey and stirred the ingredients together, watching the servants move around the kitchens.

There were a few Ghostings sitting on the floor of the kitchen using their feet to snap open beans, a mound of shells growing by their side. Sylah knew better than to ask them about Hassa, though she worried for her friend. An Ember chief of chambers stirred a large cauldron of what smelled like red pepper soup on the stove. An officer entered the kitchen and moved toward Sylah, an empty mug in his hand.

“Sorry, do you mind if I…?” He waved at the kettle.

“No, please go right ahead.”

Sylah watched him make his coffee, the grains of an idea blossoming in her mind.

She knew how Anoor was going to get into the tower and retrieve the jambiya.

Anoor laughed across the kitchen, and Sylah’s own lips automatically lifted. She looked at her from afar. She had changed from the woman Sylah had first met. Though she had donated her opulent clothes, her spirit was more vibrant than ever.

Sylah’s smile slipped. If she was going to pull this off, she’d need to talk to Loot.