Chapter 6: Carnival

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Shadows lengthened into evening, the cheery lights of the Eaves brightened, and Lapis anxiously glanced between the front and back from her perch at the reading table. Patch had yet to return, and whenever she decided to leave and run to the ex-rebel safehouse to check on him, to see what he left of Meinrad and Rambart, Rin and Dachs eyed her into keeping her seat.

Why had Rin not stayed and helped with the move? He made certain the enthusiastic rats who took advantage of the outrageous offer by Lady Thais would listen to Linz and do as they said, then returned to the Eaves. Considering the number of urchins and Lord Adrastos personnel who showed up to pack crates and cart them to the wagons, they would make quick work of packing, despite the interference by the overwrought First Sister who did not want her star doctor to walk. A silver for a speedy day’s work should have enticed him to remain there.

Which meant that someone, whether Patch or her brother, had told him to keep her company. It irritated her he said nothing about what prompted their worry.

She, as a seasoned chaser, could protect herself against whatever scum Meinrad and Rambart threw at her. Had she not proven it?

Gorging on annoyance, she planted her hands on the tabletop, hefted herself up, strode to the bar, and set her teacup down with a firm ting. Dalia whisked out of the kitchen and smiled sweetly before snagging the item and making her another drink. That irritated her more. Everyone but she, in on whatever it was.

Whatever it was? No, she glumly figured, once Rin reappeared, that both Patch and Faelan wanted her in company for her safety. After all, those hunters she and Dagby took down roamed the streets, justice denied because a noble wanted them free. She had noticed the rebels atop the Eaves, looking idle but intently watching the crowds, and she doubted the tavern becoming a central point for the Jiy House prompted the security.

A small group entered the front door, louder compared to the quiet that had settled among the regulars. A slow night, especially without the kids reading and making noise at the back table. Dachs heartily welcomed them, though not with his typical enthusiasm. Suspicion kept rebels alive, she supposed.

Dani brought her the cup, and she smiled. The aroma of spicy tea, combined with the warmth, made her smile. Nothing better, on a cold night. She turned, sipped, glanced up, and sprayed it over the middle-aged man next to her.

“Oh, Carnival, I’m so sorry!” she squeaked. The man shook his head and grabbed the hand she held out to his dripping chest.

“No, it’s fine,” he whispered in agonized disbelief. Then half-laughed, continuing to shake his head. “Jarosa,” he said with amused disgust.

“Jarosa?”

“She told me to visit the Eaves, hang out,” he said as Dachs passed him a wetted towel, glowing with respect. She again wondered what position he once held in the rebel cause, that he recognized Istak’s public name. Common Jilvaynan rebels rarely knew the leaders in nearby communities, let alone Wolf Collaborate countries.

He took the cloth with a quick grin, then settled his hand against the side of her head—his sign of great affection. “Melanthe, how did you escape?” he whispered.

“Stars’ luck.” She swallowed. Another rebel leader from her past, happy that a Nicodem survived the slaughter. Emotions welled, and she tamped down, hard, because if she responded to the tears pricking his green eyes, she might not stop sobbing. “Um, you’re in luck. The street rats aren’t here tonight, so there’s plenty of room at the back table.” Hopefully they mistook her raspiness as a reaction to the chilly night, rather than pain.

“Street rats?” one of his companions asked. Lapis remembered her, and by her watery smile, she recognized her as well. Moxie, with the sleek brown hair that gleamed, no matter the light.

“I teach them to read, as long as they’re willing to put in the effort,” she said. “It gives them a skill they can use to get off the streets and into a better job.” She waved her hand at an extremely curious Rin. “Like Rinan here. He’s my apprentice ‘keeper and chaser-in-training. Rin, would you mind, getting Faelan? Tell him Carnival’s arrived.”

“Aye,” he said, jumping up and wheeling out the doorway leading to the back stairwell. He would take the tunnels, a faster route to the rebel House. She did not envy the barrage of questions her brother would endure from the over-curious lad.

“If you want anythin’, we’ve food and drink. It’s cold out, so we’re servin’ hot tea and wake juice,” Dachs said.

“Wake juice, please,” Carnival said. “The more, the better.”

“And this is Dachs. He used to be a ‘keeper for my brother.” That should confirm his trustworthiness to the wary. Carnival shook his hand with a warm smile, as charming as she remembered.

Lapis led them to the back table as the tall man brushed the towel over his buttoned vest. He dressed his lively best; dark hunter green duster with large lapels and cuffs, striped green and purple vest, bright green shirt with collar standing up, a matching purple scarf circling his neck over it, black pants and knee-high, shined black boots with thick soles. All that green reflected in his eyes, making them spring to life, an attractive accompaniment to his dusky brown hair which fell in shaggy strands to the middle of his back. He only missed his top hat, a splendid black affair with another purple scarf circling the base.

Jarosa told her he dressed the jester and went by Carnival on purpose. She always admired, he went out in public like that, grinning at the subdued disapproval for the look.

Had Patch met him? They shared a similar love for wake juice.

“I’m surprised you remember me,” Carnival began as he tossed the cloth onto the table. She cast him a lidded look; his companions snickered in response. He cleared his throat and wiggled his brows before taking a seat.

“I’m the one who should say that,” she intimated as she slipped onto the bench against the wall and carefully set her teacup on the saucer. While he had visited Nicodem, he did so with less frequency than Jarosa. Why remember a child he interacted with on maybe a dozen visits?

“You inherited your mother’s look,” Moxie said, sitting next to the rebel. With brown hair, eyes, and clothing, she dressed the opposite of her loud leader. Oddly, Lapis never considered her subdued in his company because her bright laughter echoed his attire. “And the resemblance between you and your brother is stark.”

She did not think so, but others did not agree. “This is a good time of year to visit,” she said. “Fools and Ghouls holiday is in the next few days.”

“Perfect,” Moxie said with approval. Istak glanced at her with a raised eyebrow and she grinned widely. “Maybe he’ll do a magic trick or two.”

The man was exceptional at sleight of hand—something the rats would appreciate. “I loved when he pulled Airbelle out of the air,” she admitted. “And I even practiced his little dance bow.”

Only Carnival did not laugh; he looked humorously morose.

“Well, Jarosa said to get my ass here, a not-to-miss experience,” he said.

“I don’t think she was specifically thinking of me.” Giant lizards and metal half-man, half-horse, though?

“Perhaps, but I think this surprise is one I’ll cherish far past the others.”

“You and Jarosa both have such fond memories of me?”

His twinkle-eyed amusement concerned her. “You, of all your siblings, were the most curious and daring. The exasperation your parents felt when they related your adventures was real, but they always lit up when they whispered about them. I think, perhaps, they saw their own bravery reflected in you.”

“Not Faelan?”

“Faelan’s a leader through and through,” he admitted. “So he’s brave, just not in the same way.”

A head-sized flask of wake juice that smelled stronger than body odor hit the table next to her and Patch flumped down at her side, nonchalant, and her curiosity churned into overdrive. What had happened with Meinrad and Rambart, that he returned so relaxed? Instead of the questions, she eyed the juice with annoyance. How long did he plan to stay up that night? Gerrit strolled past and planted himself against the wall between the edge of the bench and the door, regarding the new arrivals with subdued curiosity.

Carnival leaned forward, brightly delighted; Moxie and his other companions groaned. “Where’d you get that?” he asked.

“NO!” Moxie said firmly.

Patch grinned and patted the transparent glass. “Fished Out in the Lells. Don’t want to drink all that Dachs has.”

“Tell them you want wake juice like Patch gets,” Lapis told them. “They’ll even make it as strong as you like it.”

“Do you remember what he’s like after he’s hyped up on wake juice?” Moxie demanded, pointing her index finger imperiously at the enthusiastic rebel, her full lips pursed into an exasperated grimace.

Yes. Her father always gloated he had more fun with Istak after drinking wake juice than with anyone else after alcohol. Strangely, her mother appreciated her adventures with him when he had a tad much and needed a long walk to calm down.

“He does sleight faster?” she offered. Vague memories of him bragging on that flitted through her mind.

Carnival’s satisfied grin, compared to Moxie’s glare, sent their companions, Patch and Gerrit into chuckles.

Sweeping her hand at the visitors, she glanced at the two Jiy rebels. “May I introduce Carnival and Moxie and their entourage? Jarosa told them to hang out at the Eaves without saying why.”

“Jarosa?” Patch raised an eyebrow. “Taking lessons from Faelan?”

“I guess.” She settled her hand on his. “This is my partner, Patch, and Gerrit works for Faelan.”

“Well met,” Carnival said, planting his hand on his chest and bowing his head. “I had another assumption after reading Jarosa’s letter about why I needed to visit Jiy. But I’d much rather have this surprise.”

Dachs bustled up, wake juice and tea on the tray, stepping in time with a roar before the rats invaded the Eaves.

“Lady!” Gabby crowed, hopping to the table next to Patch as the others swarmed to their usual places, regarding the strangers with suspicion. “She owns a book as big as I am!” Flinging her arms wide, she nearly bapped Carnival; he ducked with amusement. Then she stopped, stared, and stuck her hand at him, beaming. “I’m Gabrielda, future knight and ‘keeper in training!”

“Nice to meet you, Gabrielda,” he said, shaking her hand. No hesitation, no question. “I go by Carnival.”

“Carnival? That’s an awesome name!” She pouted. “I need an awesome knightly name.”

“I think Gabrielda is a wondrous knightly name,” he said.

“Really?”

Moxie laughed. “We’re from Shaloar,” she said. “Gabrielda is one of the most famous legendary knights in our country. She’s known for battling all manner of fabled monsters and outshining her companions with how many she defeated.”

Gabby’s eyes lit.

Lapis leaned over the table, indicating her guests. “This is Carnival and Moxie and crew. Be nice. And then nicer than that. Treat them like you’d treat Jarosa.”

That produced enough wide-eyed surprise the rebels snickered.

Suspicion dwindled into awe, as the rats enjoyed Carnival’s narration of Gabrielda and the dragon-like vyrnom she battled. Lapis had listened to many of his enthusiastic fairy tale retellings as a child, and she had yet to meet a more entertaining storyteller. She did smile when he produced objects out of thin air to coincide with the story; too many of the pickpockets studied his hands after the first time he pulled a shiny button out of nowhere. Too bad for them, his misdirection won over their interest.

“Always with the tales, Carnival,” Jarosa sighed. Lapis glanced at the back doorway; Jarosa and Faelan stood there, watching with smiles, Rin with sharp interest.

“What’s a jester without a tale?” he asked before downing the remainder of his juice.

“At least this jester,” Moxie said.

“Jesters have always used stories to tell hard truths,” Lapis reminded them. “Even if their kings and queens never paid them much heed.”

“Were he that serious,” Jarosa muttered, brushing back her dark curls. Lapis once considered her opposite of Carnival in every way; short of stature, somber umber stare, plain, earthen clothing, but as she aged, she realized they shared the same passion as her father for righting the wrongs Dentheria wrought on her empire, and that mattered far more than presentation.

He grinned and pushed away from the table. “My dear Jarosa, I believe we should couple seriousness with play.” He made his flourish bow, the one Lapis loved, and whisked his hand to the side; his chubby little green-feathered bird sat in his palm, cheeping merrily, before she flew to the other rebel leader and landed on her shoulder with a full-throated tweet. The kids gasped in delight, and Rin frowned. Lapis knew, he tried to figure out where the man kept the creature and how he managed to whisk it into the open without an obvious grab. Carnival, though, protected his magic secrets, even declaring he would only speak of them on his deathbed, if he were still viable to do so.

Was she the same bird? Mirettes, despite their small stature, lived long lives, and, curious after first meeting his darling Airbelle, she delved into books to find information about them. They became deeply attached to their owners and showed affection for those they liked. If they disliked someone, they would shit on them to show disdain. That had terrified her, though Istak had stressed Airbelle liked her and would never do that to her.

She had shit on Tiege, though. Her brother hated that little bird, and when he found out they lived as long as their owners, he avoided the Shaloar rebel during visits. He never understood why Lapis, over-enthusiastic, had rushed to pet her rather than hide and watch the sky with dread.

Jarosa smiled and nuzzled the cutie, who happily rubbed against her cheek. “I’m surprised Airbelle still puts up with you.”

“She’s an adventuresome spirit, like I am.”

“Her feathers are so pretty,” Gabby breathed. True, they had a metallic gleam to them, and depending on the light, they shifted to a bluer hue. Airbelle tweeted, as if she realized the rat complimented her.

Carnival and his people had arrived by horse and rented stalls at a nearby stable, and needed to retrieve them. Jarosa led them out the front with a wave to Dachs. Lapis glanced at Faelan, who remained at the door, a small smile lighting his face.

“He said Jarosa told him to come to the Eaves and hang out.”

“I’m surprised, she took that route. She’s typically more careful than that.”

“I know it’s a shock, but—”

“A shock?” Faelan cocked his head, then shook it. His gaze drifted to the rats, and he leaned against the doorframe, folding his arms. “So, Caitria’s upstairs in Rin’s room,” he said. The urchins’ eyes darted to him. “If you want her to hold on to your silver, go talk to her. We’ll start an account for each one of you, like Linz promised.”

Lapis glanced at Patch as the rats leaped up and raced to the stairs, Gabby in the lead. The ones who kept money in her room stayed, and she realized she needed to find separate hiding places for all their wealth. Or perhaps she should write their names on the bags to differentiate whose pay sat within.

“You’re keeping their bits?” Patch asked Faelan.

“Linz told them she’d look into starting something like a bank account for them,” he said. “It’s not exactly safe to have silver in your cubby.”

“Is why the Lady puts our take in her room,” Rin said as he wandered over to Lyet and plopped down. “He’s Carnival?” he asked, and by their reactions, the rest of the rats drowned in curiosity.

“He is,” Faelan said. “He’s an act unto himself. Ask Lanth. She loved watching him perform.”

“I did.” She smoothed the top of her head. “But don’t upset Airbelle. If you do, she’ll dive down and use your head as a restroom.”

The pop-eyed disgust caused her brother to chuckle. “You remember Tiege.”

“She hated him.”

“It was his own fault. He didn’t think she had a brain, and he didn’t expect her to remember him teasing her. She did, and responded accordingly.” He jerked his chin up and disappeared around the door; she, Patch and Gerrit followed him to her room.

Her partner heaved the wake juice onto her rickety table. Now that he stayed with her, she needed better furniture—which meant she needed to complete more stakes. The last few weeks had not been kind to her funds, and the boon she had from the Alchemist had dwindled to near nothing.

“I’m surprised he remembered me,” Lapis said as she flumped onto the blue-swathed bed. She long ago gave up being embarrassed by its unmade state.

Faelan took a seat. “He admired how you always got in trouble as a kid, and instead of bowing to chastisement, you planned yet another way to do what you wanted and not get caught.” He settled his elbow on the table and sunk his cheek into his hand. Patch motioned for Gerrit to take the other chair and joined her on the bed. “Lapis. You don’t realize it, but you represent something we hold dearer than the rebellion. Hope.”

She blinked. “Hope?”

“You rose from the ashes of Nicodem and reminded Istak and Jarosa that even the darkest times have unexpected hope.” His smile turned soft and melancholy. “He even gave up wake juice for a year as he mourned, as much for your memory as for Mother and Father’s.”

Her eyes bulged. “No.”

He nodded. “They knew, Gall meant the slaughter as a warning for them, as much as for the Jilvayna rebels. They grieved because they had a hand in the loss of friends and the brilliant spark they saw in you, the same spark that led them to the rebellion. And now you stand before them, a reminder that sparks might sputter and smolder, but instead of snuffing out, they can roar back into an inferno.”

“You’re reading too much into that.”

“No, I’m not.”

Lapis touched her chest. What did he mean, spark? True, she stubbornly sneaked out to pick berries when she should have remained at home, but she doubted that counted, especially for someone like Carnival. Perhaps their father told tales, and he had emphasized something in those retellings that did not reflect reality. What else did Faelan know about how hard Alaric’s death hit the Shaloar rebel?

He glanced at Patch and Gerrit. “So?”

Her partner laughed, dark, annoyed. “They’re gone.”

“Gone?”

“The rest at the House said they packed up and vacated as soon as Rambart got back,” Gerrit murmured. “They don’t know what to do. Meinrad and Rambart promised many things, and they’re just realizing their words held nothing but emptiness.”

Faelan rolled his head back. “So now I have to find them,” he muttered.

“Yeah. They left me behind, and anyone they had sent into the field. Too concerned about their own skin to wait.”

“Any guesses as to where they decided to hole up?”

“I think they chose Rambart’s Eldessiun Estate. They’d spoken of it before. It’s the nearest one either own to Jiy, and he’s fortified it.”

“Hmm.”

“Perben went with his mother after she gave her statement to the guard, and he didn’t return to the House before they left. I doubt he will follow, though.”

“He has a choice now. Thyra may not have meant to force it on him, but she did.”

“He’s always had a choice,” Patch declared darkly. “And he chose death.”

Faelan nodded absently. “I’m glad Istak finally arrived. He can keep Jarosa busy enough that she won’t try to find them on her own.”

“Why would she?” Lapis asked.

“Because they went after you.”

Oh.

“It’s not been productive, holding her back. She wants someone to take her frustration out on, and Perben and Meinrad and Rambart are perfect villains to do so.”

“Meinrad fears her.”

“Both he and Rambart do. She’s a strong woman who will not back down under their bullying. They’re used to subservience in the rebellion and their personal lives. That, I think, grates them the most when it comes to you. You follow in Jarosa’s footsteps.” He slumped down in the chair. “I suppose you want to know why Istak’s here.”

“I thought it was because of the Dentherion contact.”

“It is, though not the whole story. He’s traveled to several of the Wolf Collaborate rebellions and spoken with their leaders. Ostensibly to gather support for a Dentherion ally, but that’s not the primary purpose. Jarosa told me, after Rin said Carnival had shown up.” He took a deep breath and puffed out his cheeks as he blew it out. “Cassa mentioned it, so it’s better known outside Theyndora than in. I spoke with her and Kathandra about it, and Istak heard the same. And Beltin, as stupid as he is, made a comment about it while throwing information at me, hoping something will move me enough to release him. Governments that use aquatheerdaal as a basis for their tech are desperate to find a replacement. Gall isn’t the only puppet Dentheria cut off because they need to hoard their remaining aquatheerdaal-based tech.”

“So Gall’s vulnerable.” That pleased her.

“All the puppet rulers are, which means no other country can spare the weapons and send him more. He’s so frantic to replace what he’s squandered that he tried to make a deal with Requet, which fell through and damaged his reputation with the Second Council.” He held up an index finger. “Now, Diros is one of Gall’s closest court allies and has profited off importing keltaitheerdaal for years. Another well-placed noble family sent their daughter to free the hunters and retrieve the tech weapon they used. If Gall has access to tech like that, he isn’t acting like it.”

Patch laughed, dark and deadly. “So Diros isn’t sharing? How very like him.”

“There’s been discontent for several years now.” Faelan waved his hand, as if the point obvious. “Greed’s prompted most of it. Midir looked into the state of the urchins in Jiy, because he saw no reason for so many orphans to live in the streets. He discovered Gall redirected the monies once used for social services.”

“Varr mentioned that to me, when he told me that Jerin couldn’t attend another boarding school,” Lapis said. “Gall implemented restrictions that stipulated only a family member or someone designated by the deceased parents could pay for an education and room and board. So none of the rats could qualify for an orphanage because they’d need a family member to pay for them to live there, and that’s not happening.”

“Yes. And he’s placed restrictions on charity help, too.” Faelan lifted his lip in a snarl. “Basically, official charities have to have a Dentherion backer. Without that, they can’t operate. Most of Jilvayna doesn’t follow that rule, but he enforces it in Jiy and the nearest cities and towns to keep the poor and desperate in their place.”

“And all that money’s gone into his pocket and he hasn’t shared,” Patch muttered.

“Not quite. We think it’s gone into research for a tech replacement. It looks as if Diros’s people discovered something they aren’t sharing with the crown, and whether Gall knows about it is unclear.” He glanced at Gerrit. “Tell us about why Meinrad and Rambart hired hunters using keltaitheerdaal-based tech.”

The rebel huffed. “They thought they hired underground chasers,” he said, disgusted. “Rambart placed a stake to find Lady Lanth in the undermarket and the leader caught up to him before he exited the place. He even brought them to the safehouse, so that’s compromised.”

Faelan dipped his head and rubbed his eyes. Lapis knew the words running through his head at the asinine act. They cared little for the common ex-rebel, to disregard caution like that.

“Patch and I told everyone still there that they need to leave before hunters sell the info and the palace invades. Baldur was particularly upset because he wants rebel help in finding Vivina.”

“I have told him we will. I won’t rescind that. We will do all we can to rescue his daughter.”

“I wasn’t the only one who thought they were suspicious. Most of the younger lot, including Perben, thought this would become sloppy shit quick, but money talks louder than sense, and they want their easily earned income back, however they can get it.”

“Meinrad and Rambart have large estates and larger bank accounts,” Faelan muttered. “Supporting a few ex-rebels won’t bankrupt them.”

“How dare you suggest they use their hard-earned, inherited money for business purposes!”

Patch laughed, though Lapis long ago concluded that represented the whole of nobility in Jiy. She might have to reassess after her experiences with Lord Adrastos and Sir Armarandos.

Gerrit shook his head in self-loathing, somberness descending. “I was a fool to ever trust them,” he murmured. “I always thought their reasoning had planning and thought behind it. But now, it’s obvious any successes were accidental. I’m not the only one who’s realized it, but it’s too late for apologies.”

“I don’t remember you trusting Perben,” Patch said.

“I didn’t, but I only thought him a whiny noble hyped by Meinrad and Rambart because they didn’t see him as a threat to their positions, nothing more. I didn’t recognize . . .” He smashed his lips together. “I should have. I know what duplicity’s like.”

“Well, you have an opportunity to make up for it.” Faelan studied the other man. “Did you realize the chasers had that new tech?”

“No. The two who accompanied us to the House and the Lells didn’t openly have anything. The lad they paid to find out where Lady Lanth was didn’t either. They met the one who did in one of the squares, and he stayed away from us. He was too antsy, and several of us commented on it. I told Rambart they weren’t here to carry out his stake, and he snarled and warned me about the consequences of questioning him in public. And then Perben agreed with me and he boiled over.”

“Well, the last of his good sense is sitting right here, so expect more of that stellar reasoning,” Patch said.

Gerrit produced a ghost of a smile. “Rambart was shocked when he pulled that lightning weapon on Lapis.” He glanced at her. “He really just wanted to find you in an open setting where he assumed you wouldn’t throw a fit or a punch and let them drag you back to the safehouse to ask after Faelan. They hadn’t thought further ahead than that. Some info Relaine brought back triggered them, and they rushed to place the stake. I don’t know what that was.”

“Relaine?” Patch growled and her brother cast him a dirty look.

“She has no options left,” he reminded her partner. “Trying to ingratiate herself to them was her desperate attempt at returning to her previous lifestyle.”

“She went with them,” Gerrit offered.

“Then we know her as a true enemy,” Faelan said. Disgust wafted from both him and Patch, for different, but no less bitter, reasons. “So there isn’t information you can divulge on the hunters.”

“They said the person who accepted the stake could vouch for them, so they might know something.”

“I’ll talk to Sewri,” Patch said. “He’s got to be fuming, another stake crashed into the Pit and he’s going to have to talk with Sir Armarandos about it.”

“Good.” Faelan nodded curtly. “Gerrit, you need to write up a full report. Put everything you recall in it, even if it doesn’t seem relevant.” He glanced at her. “And you need to sit and take care of your feet.”

Lapis’s immediate rise to anger met with Patch smacking a kiss on her head before he levered himself off the mattress. Her brother’s acceptance of her seething strengthened her annoyance.

“Why do you think I don’t have something for you to do?” he asked.

“You’re babying me.”

“No, I’m not. But what I need from you isn’t exciting, so you’ll be able to rest.”

Her eyes narrowed further.

“I need to speak to my sister,” he said. The other men vacated, and she forced her fuming into the pit of her stomach. What else did he want to plop in her lap?

His growing amusement at her irritation lit a steady burn in her chest. He did the same in their childhood, simply sat and watched her anger roar through her with his lips plastered together to keep from laughing. “There’s a rebel coming in from fieldwork who needs to report immediately,” he said. “You and Tearlach will wait for him downstairs. We don’t know exactly when, but hopefully by late tonight. I’ve already asked Rin if we can use the tunnel entrance in his room, and he said it was fine.”

“Rebel without being a rebel,” she grumbled uncharitably.

“He enjoys being helpful,” Faelan said. “Waiting isn’t exciting, but it is important. If anyone looks suspicious, out-of-place, tell Tearlach and we’ll catch him before he goes inside.”

“So what he has is important?”

“Yeah. Whether it’s informative or not is a different matter.” He pulled a series of papers from beneath the breast of his shirt. “And I want you to look these over. Path, Jhor and Wrethe think they broke most of the codes that Danaea used. Write down your thoughts, and I’ll pick them up later.” He settled them on the table. “And Istak will want to talk.”

“I didn’t know him that well.”

“No, but remember what I said about hope. Both he and Jarosa need the reminder.”

Hope. The raging river of promise washing away the shallow stream of regret. Rivers, however, needed recharging too, or they trickled into nothing, leaving behind wilting plants, dead fish and cracked earth.

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