The Final Strife

Sylah had filled the room with zines, but Anoor had requested different books from the library about the history of the plantations, the accounts of the Jin-Hidal mining uprisings, army ledgers of Duster crimes. Sylah fetched her requests without a twitch of the eyebrow, but Anoor caught her approving glances. If Anoor was going to be warden, she was going to make a difference.

As much as Anoor wanted to prove she was ready to get back to training, she was also reluctant to leave the safety of the infirmary. When the healer eventually gave his blessing for her to leave, she dragged her feet all the way up to her chambers.

“What’s wrong?” Sylah asked her. “I thought you’d be glad to leave that smelly place.”

“I am, it’s just that…I don’t know, it felt for a minute like I won, you know?” Anoor pushed her hair out of her face. Its volume had grown during her time without her precious oils. “But there’s still so much to do…bloodwerk…combat…and we still haven’t got the weapon from the tower.”

“Don’t worry about that. Shall I run you a bath?”

“I am worried about that, though, Sylah.” Anoor went to sit on the side of the marble bathtub as Sylah poured half a bottle of oil into the running water. No wonder Anoor had gotten through ten bottles in the last mooncycle.

“I told you I would figure it out. And I have,” Sylah said.

“What?” Anoor shrieked, her bare feet slapping on the tiled floor as she stood.

“Get in and I’ll tell you all about it.”

Sylah sat on a stack of zines beside Anoor, their heads side by side but separated by the wall of the bathtub. She told Anoor of her plan and the sleeping draft she had procured, though she omitted where from, and Kwame’s role in administering it. Sylah retrieved the research she had done and pointed out the different foods and drinks that they’d need to lace with the liquid depending on the time of day.

“During breakfast before the officers swap rotation is the ideal time. Kwame can be there to monitor their comings and goings and add the liquid to the coffee. He’ll have to be careful and make sure no one else drinks from it during that time.”

“I trust him,” Anoor said.

“Yeah, well, being trustworthy and being capable are two different things. This isn’t a game of shantra, this is real life.”

“I guess.”

“After he’s done that, you’ll have ten minutes to go up to the tower, retrieve the weapon, and leave again,” Sylah said.

Anoor was silent for a moment.

“Let’s do it tomorrow,” she said in between the dripping of the faucet.

“That’s too soon, Anoor.”

“Why? I’m fully recovered, the healer said so. Plus, we don’t have a lot of time. I need the jambiya. I need it.”

“Are you sure?”

“Yes.”

Anoor dipped her head under the water, cutting off Sylah’s protests. She submerged her hair beneath the warm embrace of the tub and opened her eyes, though the perfume in the oil stung them. Sylah appeared above her, a blob of wavy shapes and gargled noises.

After a few breathless moments, Sylah left, and Anoor knew she had won. Tomorrow, then. Tomorrow, she would retrieve her weapon.

—

Gorn had stopped giving Sylah any work. Even though Sylah still dressed like a chambermaid during the day, she was able to fully dedicate her time to Anoor. That morning their run took them past the northern tower where the weapons were kept. Anoor had lost some of her stamina from the week off running, but she was fitter than Sylah expected.

“Remember the plan? At the call of the eighth strike—”

“I wait until I see Officer Ado enter the tower,” Anoor interrupted Sylah. “Then count to a hundred. At that point I can enter the tower, retrieve my weapon, and leave. I have ten minutes from when the officer enters.”

Sylah nodded, and they slowed their run to a jog. They had one strike until eighth call. The air was humid and thick with anticipation. Or it might have just been the haze left over from the tidewind. Sylah heard in the kitchens that an Ember servant got caught in the tidewind last night. He survived, just, though they weren’t sure he’d make it through the day. He lost all the skin from his arms and half his face. It had happened at four in the morning, when the tidewind should have been long gone two strikes prior.

Anoor darted to the right beside her, waving at someone in the distance.

“I’ll be right back,” she called to Sylah.