In the Shadow of Lightning

53

Thessa was silently cursing the sky, telling it to send her a proper thunderstorm instead of these damned depressing drizzles, when the messenger arrived. Thessa and Pari sat around the little fire in the lighthouse. They were both still wet and somber from the brief memorial Tirana gave for her fallen enforcer, and Thessa had spent the entire memorial studying each of the enforcers, wondering if one of them was a traitor.

The messenger was a young woman in a black Foreign Legion uniform, a yellow ram stitched on her breast and little ram’s-horn forgeglass earrings dangling from her earlobes.

“Private Fenny, ma’am!” the woman said, snapping a salute. “Message for Lady Foleer from General Grappo.”

Thessa glanced sidelong at Pari. General Grappo. Lady Foleer. It seemed so formal for a pair who’d escaped a labor camp not long ago. “Go on, Private.”

“General Grappo wishes to inform you that there will be a battle in the vicinity of the Forge sometime in the next few days, and asks that you move your operation behind Ossan lines where you’ll be safe until after the battle.”

Thessa’s stomach fell. “Here? Really? I thought all the fighting was farther south.”

“The Grent have encircled Harbortown. General Grappo is trying to lure them back to Grent, but he’s still worried about active combat.”

Pari spoke up. “Damn. I thought I saw strange lights north of Harbortown last night. Didn’t think much of it.”

“That would be Kerite’s Drakes, the mercenary company,” Fenny explained. “Those are the ones General Grappo is worried about.”

Thessa leaned close to the fire, still trying to get the cuffs of her jacket dry. The wind howled outside, rain pattering constantly on the tarpaulin secured over holes in the lighthouse roof. “Does that mean Demir is camped nearby?”

“He is, ma’am. We’re about three miles from here.”

Thessa turned to look at the phoenix channel. It didn’t look like much – just a copper cable coming down from the roof and into one side of an insulated box, then out the other and into the ground. She doubted that Fenny had even taken note of it. Did it matter? Demir would send a message only with someone he trusted. Besides, Thessa knew that crest. It belonged to the Ironhorn Rams, the most famous member of which was a longtime client of the Grent Royal Glassworks.

“Is Idrian Sepulki there?” she asked.

“The Ram? Yes ma’am, of course. He’s our breacher. Horns ready, hooves steady.” Fenny pounded a fist against the ramshead sigil on her uniform.

Thessa considered the flames of the little fire for a few moments, tilting her head to listen to that patter of rain. Still no sound of thunder. “That’s not far,” she said, considering. “Take me to Demir.”

The walk to the Ossan camp was dark and miserable, but blessedly not too long. Thessa refused a piece of sightglass – it wouldn’t help her anyway – and stumbled along close behind, a hand on Fenny’s belt. By the time they reached their destination it was no longer raining, and Thessa was grateful to leave her jacket hanging by the fire outside Demir’s tent before heading inside.

Demir sat cross-legged in the middle of a bare floor, hardly any furniture filling his massive tent. Every surface was covered in papers, with crates of more shoved off to one side. Demir looked up from his studies in surprise. “Thessa? I’m glad you got my message.”

Thessa remained just inside the flap. “What,” she asked, “is the actual danger to us at the Forge?”

“I can’t be entirely sure,” Demir said, setting aside some report. He stood up, stretching out his legs and pacing around for a moment before offering her the only little stool in the tent. “If the Grent notice you, they may send someone to investigate. Otherwise you’re only in danger if we lose the battle and have to flee.”

“But you’re not going to lose the battle, are you?” Thessa asked, raising her eyebrows.

A small smile flickered across Demir’s face. “I’m not one for bravado. There’s a very distinct chance that I will lose. I have a good plan, but Kerite is a sharp one. I wouldn’t put it past her to turn my plan against me in some way. I’d rather you and your team at the Forge be safe.”

Thessa almost told him about the death of Tirana’s enforcer. She should. Demir had a right to know. But she could also see the redness in his eyes and the slump of his shoulders. He was exhausted. Giving him another problem to deal with at this moment would be cruel. “Are you ordering me to withdraw from the Forge?” she asked.

Demir frowned. “I’m not going to order you to do anything. You’re my partner, not my client. We made that very explicit.”

“Then we’re going to stay. The phoenix channel is set up, our camp is in place. We could get a lightning strike literally at any hour. Before I left to come see you I gave orders for all lights to be extinguished and noise kept to a minimum. No one is going to notice us up on the Forge.”

“You’re certain that’s wise?”

Thessa finally walked over and sank down on the stool Demir had offered. “I can’t stop thinking about that riot, Demir. Despite your efforts, dozens of people died. Newspapers are reporting riots like that all over the world – not just in the Empire – and they’re going to escalate. I’m not a politician but I know how precarious a government can be. We are inches from sliding into chaos, and the phoenix channel might be all that stops it. I understand if you don’t want to risk your enforcers, but I tell you now … I will risk my own life to gain days.” She ran a hand through her hair. “And I might need every day. This is just a test – an experiment – and it might not work.”

“Then,” Demir said, spreading his hands, “I’ll respect that decision.”

No argument. No scolding. He actually listened, just like that. Kastora used to tell her that people in power never listened. They just wanted you to follow orders. Thessa wondered how she could be so lucky. Demir stood over her, his attention turning back to the papers spread out all over the floor, and she remembered her feeling of isolation upon finishing the phoenix channel the other day. No wine, no celebration. She stood up, bringing her face-to-face with him, just inches apart, and ran a finger along the collar of his uniform.

“You have a battle to plan, I know. But can I have an hour?”

Demir swallowed noticeably, taking in a sharp little breath. Was he nervous? If so, that was adorable. “Thessa…” he said, taking a half step back.

Thessa didn’t let it show on her face, but that half step hurt. Even if he hadn’t meant it to be, it was a rejection. “If you don’t have time, that’s okay.”

“It’s not the time I’m worried about.”

Thessa felt her heart fall. She hadn’t consciously come out here for a dalliance, but now that she was here she realized how much she needed it. By that look of uncertainty in his eyes, he at least partially needed it too. He gave her a pained look.

“Okay, Master Grappo.” What little patience she had was now gone, killed by that pained look. She squared her legs and faced him full on. “Then what is it? What’s going on here?”

Demir stiffened visibly. “What do you mean?”

“You and me. I’ve seen dozens of young siliceer apprentices drive themselves mad with pining and confusion and miscommunication, and I’m not damn well doing that. When you left to face the Grent that first time, you and I were minutes from sleeping together. Now you’re being evasive. If it’s not the right time just say the word. But if it’s something else, I deserve to know.” She poked him in the chest with a finger. “What is happening? Did you fall in love with someone while you were at war for three glassdamned days? Did you decide I wasn’t good enough for a romp? Did a musketball castrate you?”

“Perhaps we should talk about this later,” Demir said, taking another half step back, his eyes darting evasively, as if looking for an exit.

“No,” Thessa snapped. “I am exhausted, cold, surrounded by the very soldiers that invaded my adopted country. I’m out there sitting on a rock above the ocean just waiting for glassdamned lightning to strike. Are you going to keep me warm or give me a good reason why you can’t?”

The color seemed to drain out of Demir’s face. “We’re doing this now, aren’t we?”

“Yes we are.” Thessa gloried in her own emotional momentum. No more dancing around things. Straight to the point.

“Fine,” he said. “Did you know they call me the Lightning Prince?”

The reply took her by surprise. She didn’t know what she expected, but it hadn’t been that. “I suppose I heard a few of the porters at the hotel whisper about it. Sure.”

“Do you know why?”

“I don’t.”

“Because nine years ago, I led one of the most stunning campaigns in Ossan history by putting down a provincial uprising in just seven days. At my command, the Foreign Legion crushed the armies of Holikan. The resulting sack of the city was considered a nightmare and my involvement scrubbed from official records.”

Thessa barely heard anything after the word “Holikan.” Her own blood suddenly pounded powerful in her ears, as if she had thrown herself off the Forge and was falling toward the sea. “You were there?” she asked, unable to keep the tremble out of her tone.

“I wasn’t just there,” Demir said gently, “I commanded the campaign.”

Thessa suddenly felt dizzy, her senses muted. She stumbled and sat back down on the stool, staring up at him. “That’s not possible.” He did not respond, and Thessa tried to grapple with this new knowledge. In her mind she played back every conversation they’d ever had, stopping that night he returned from the Inner Assembly. She distinctly remembered the fear that flashed across his eyes when she mentioned Holikan, and the way he’d disappeared coldly from her room. It all made so much sense. “How long have you known I was from Holikan?” she asked.

“Only since you told me.”

Just as she thought. She clutched at her stomach, feeling it twist and turn like she was on a ship’s deck in bad weather. “You butchered my family,” she whispered.

Demir’s face grew stricken. “Thessa, I was there. I admit it. I knew I needed to tell you. But I did not give the order to sack Holikan. I was betrayed, and I only recently found out by whom. I can’t make it right, but I am looking for justice.”

Thessa was still reeling on the inside. Demir – a man she’d known only a couple of weeks, but who she thought was the kindest, most considerate guild-family member she’d ever met – had conducted the Holikan campaign. Lightning Prince. The words tasted like ash on the tip of her tongue.

“Let me explain,” he began.

Thessa cut him off. “No. I don’t want to hear it from you.” She got to her feet, grabbing on to one of the tent poles for stability. She could hear the coldness in her own voice, and she did not try to temper it. “I can’t trust a word you say.” She left, lurching and dizzy, hurrying out into the cold winter air, feeling a stab of betrayal – at Demir, at Ossa, even at her very happy intentions being dashed against the ground.

She stopped just outside, gathering her wits. Part of her hoped Demir would rush after her, but when she peeked back inside the tent she found him standing stock-still, staring at the wall. She looked at her hands. Did consorting with him put Holikan’s blood on them? Of course not. She didn’t know. But it sure felt like it. What could she do now? She was in too deep with the Grappo. She had a contract. She was surrounded by his enforcers. The only person in her world who was beholden to her instead of him was Pari.

Thessa found the messenger nearby, sitting with a young woman by the fire, listening to someone a few fires over play the fiddle. “Private Fenny?”

“Ma’am?”

“Where is Idrian Sepulki?”

“He’s out on a mission, ma’am. He was due to report back in half an hour ago. I imagine he’ll be along soon. Would you like to wait for him?”

“If it’s not too much trouble.” Thessa remained standing, warming her hands by the fire, trying not to get sucked into the despair of her own thoughts. The night air helped to cool her head, but her chest hurt with a helpless fury for a crime that had happened over a third of her life ago. She tried to picture her parents and her little sister the last time she saw them as she boarded a coach service for Grent. As seemed to happen more frequently these days, she could not remember their faces.

“Thessa?”

She jumped, not knowing how much time had passed as she stared into the fire, and looked up to see Idrian standing across from her. He looked a little older than when she last saw him – a little more weary with a few more scars, and a chunk missing from one ear. He wore his brightly colored armor, his helmet under his arm and his hair slick with sweat. A young man stood at his elbow carrying his sword and shield. Idrian’s presence seemed to ground her thoughts.

“You remember me?”

“Of course I do! You helped Kastora on this the last two times.” He tapped his godglass eye. “I see that Demir succeeded in fetching you.”

“It’s a long story,” Thessa said, trying to smile.

“One I’d like to hear.”

“Someday. I’m sorry to spring this on you, and I know we haven’t seen each other for years, but could I have a word in private?”

“Of course!” Idrian dismissed his assistant and led her to an avenue between the tents, where he gave her an apologetic smile. “This is about as private as it gets in an army camp. What’s going on?”

“I’m looking for someone – anyone – who was at Holikan,” she said. “I’m hoping you can point me in the right direction.”

Idrian’s gaze grew far away and he touched his godglass eye. “Did you say Holikan?”

“I did. I need to talk to someone who was there.”

Idrian shifted from foot to foot. “Well, no one else was. The Ironhorns were on the campaign, but they never actually got to Holikan. They had orders to blow up bridges fifty miles away.”

“You said ‘they,’” Thessa said, feeling her stomach tighten once more.

“I did,” he admitted. “Because I was there.”

“What do you mean?” This man, someone Kastora respected above all others, was at Holikan? And Kastora never told her?

“I fought in the battle just outside the city. It was bloody but quick.” His shoulders sagged, his face growing grim at the memory. “So yes, I was there.”

“Did you … participate?”

A look of horror came over Idrian, so acute that Thessa immediately felt the tension leave her body. “Participate?” he asked in disgust. “In the sack? No. If I’d had it my way, every one of those that did would have been shot.”

Thessa had a hundred more questions but she couldn’t let herself ask them, not now. She reached out and took him by the arm, looking into his good eye. “Idrian, please. Tell me what happened that night.”

“About the sack?”

“About Demir. Did he give the order to destroy the city?”

Some measure of understanding seemed to enter Idrian’s expression. “In a word? No. We won the battle, the Holikan armies were put to flight, and the city was open to us. Demir had direct orders from the Assembly to decimate the city – it’s an old punishment for rebels, and a brutal one. Demir refused. He spared the mayor’s life, and he ordered Holikan to be spared as well. The words were barely out of his mouth when we realized that the army was marching on the city.”

Thessa stared, openmouthed, the sound of her heart hammering away almost drowning out Idrian’s words. She’d never actually heard a firsthand account. All she knew was that one day her family was still alive, sending her letters at her apprenticeship with Kastora, and then news came of the city rising up against Ossa. Months passed, news was sparse, and then word came that Holikan had been destroyed. That was the end of her old life.

Idrian continued, “Demir galloped off alone in the night, trying to stop them, but someone had given false orders for the army to sack the city. Once that bloodletting is out of the bag, there’s no putting it back in again.” Idrian shuddered, and Thessa wondered what a man as strong as he must have seen to make the memory so painful. “I didn’t find him until the next morning, cradling the corpse of a little girl he tried to save. It broke him. He went from the greatest politician in the Empire – the Lightning Prince – to a mental invalid overnight. He resigned his commission, disappeared into the provinces, and only returned a few weeks ago when his mother was murdered.” Idrian passed a hand across his face. “The Assembly buried the entire thing. His involvement was stripped from the official records.”

“So he’s not a butcher.”

“Butcher?” Idrian asked in surprise. “I’ve never met someone so dangerous who cares so much about other people. I’m not sure if he can talk about Holikan still. How did you even find out about it?”

“He told me,” Thessa said softly, trying to digest Idrian’s story. She looked around her, then back up at Idrian. “My family was at Holikan when it happened.”

Idrian’s eyes widened. “Oh.”

A thousand emotions warred inside her, all trying to come out on top. She was angry, confused, sad, hurt, relieved, even a little happy. None of it felt good. If this was true – and she had no reason to disbelieve Idrian – then Demir was just as much a victim of the sack of Holikan as she was. Someone had undermined him, given false orders, and destroyed his life. The stricken look on his face when she wouldn’t let him explain himself was probably the same look she’d worn when she received word of the sack.

She felt her resolve strengthen. All her life, things had been taken from her – her family, her friends, her master, her homes. She could not let fate snatch this new life from her. She turned to Idrian. “I’m glad you’re safe. I’d like to catch up, but…” She squeezed his arm. “Thank you for telling me. I have … an apology to make.”