The elders are going by foot, but they will be using the tunnels until they surface in Jin-Dinil. They will have to go the long way round, as one of our routes there has been compromised.
“How long have I got?”
The elders will be there in three weeks, give or take. They will not wait for you before leaving for the mainland.
Sylah would have to ride hard. She took the map from Hassa and rolled it up.
“Will you look after her for me? There are few people she can trust.”
I will, Sylah.
Sylah hugged Hassa one more time, her small frame softening a bit more at the close contact.
“I’ll see you soon,” Sylah said, getting into the driving seat.
I hope so, Sylah. For all our sakes.
—
Anoor couldn’t quite believe she was walking the five hundred steps toward her mother. She looked down to the courtyard below at the sea of Ember faces. Her grandmother was there, in the front row, a sardonic smile on her face that Anoor took for pride. Anoor had planned a meeting with Yona tomorrow. Now that her mother could no longer keep them apart, Anoor was keen to find out what she could learn from her grandmother. If Yona didn’t prove worthy of being an ally, at least she’d really annoy her mother with the meeting.
Anoor looked beyond the Embers in the courtyard and for the first time truly saw the onlooking Dusters and Ghostings pressed into pens at the back. They weren’t given seats. They were given railings manned by officers. Anoor promised she would free them from their bars before long.
She hoped Sylah got away safely. Anoor had asked Boey to ride swiftly, though she knew the eru couldn’t understand her. The nudge Boey gave Anoor had been full of affection, and Anoor had kissed her on the snout. She hoped they would both come back safely.
Anoor’s legs started to ache. Five hundred steps were a lot of steps, no matter how hard you trained. Her knees creaked and sweat dripped down her neck into the wide collar of her red suit. One of the first things she’d done was order a new wardrobe. She made sure Gorn went to the Duster Quarter to buy her the clothes. Though the material wasn’t as soft as the cotton from Jin-Noon, it was hardy and the stitching precise.
The Disciple of Truth puffed beside her. He was a large man with a circular bald patch on his head so defined that Anoor wondered if he’d shaved it in on purpose. He smiled at her, and she smiled back.
Tanu had won the title of Disciple of Knowledge. Anoor was glad of it; at least there was someone she knew. Tanu ran ahead of Anoor, the white sleeves of her suit billowing out behind her like milk froth.
The final disciple was a scrawny musawa called Faro. Their gangly legs seemed out of proportion for their body, but their mind must have been sharp if they won the Aktibar of duty. They were yet to introduce themselves to Anoor, but Tanu had said that Faro was Aveed’s favorite from the very beginning of the Aktibar, nearly five mooncycles ago.
Five mooncycles. Was that all? Anoor was sure she’d been climbing the steps for half that time.
The four of them reached the pinnacle of the five hundred steps, their wardens there to greet them. Uka, in her signature gray, looked at her coolly.
“Anoor.” She tilted her head in greeting.
“Warden,” Anoor replied. It was the first time they had spoken since the final trial, and Anoor realized the fear she felt toward her had abated somewhat.
Oh, Anoor’s knees still knocked together, but the power in her mother’s threats was gone. Uka’s disapproval dimmed in the light of Anoor’s success. But she no longer needed her love. Not that Uka wouldn’t assassinate Anoor if it came down to it. There were just bigger threats now. Her mother simply wasn’t the only person who wanted to kill her anymore.
Anoor turned and took her place beside Uka.
Her breath left her in an appreciative sigh as she looked out across the city. The sky was the faded purple of a healing bruise, and she understood in that moment why Anyme had wanted to climb into the world above.
Anoor could see all the quarters of Nar-Ruta, from the plantations in the distance to the churning Ruta River that separated the wealthy from the poor. She could see the joba trees speckling courtyards in the Ember Quarter and the empty streets that wound around the Dredge. But what stole the air from her lungs wasn’t just the villas in the distance, the shifting sand dunes on the horizon. No, it was the sea of brown faces, a sea of Embers and Ghostings and Dusters looking up to her with reverence.
This was power.
—
Sylah could still taste Anoor on her lips.
The eru grumbled beneath her, and Sylah flicked the reins.
“Ayaah, stop it.”