Chapter 1
Hiding Out
The Circuit, Medio, The City – 6th Marcalis 3419
Bekha shook her head, her eyes on the news sheet. ‘Lady Aila.’
Aila frowned. ‘What?’
‘Nothing,’ said Bekha; ‘I was just reading that there’s been no sign of her for a month, when every Blade in the City is hunting her. It’s like she’s disappeared.’
Aila glanced away. She had been hiding in the Circuit as Stormfire since her cousin Naxor had rescued her from Pella; living with a band of dissidents who were all wanted by the authorities for one reason or another. She glanced at Bekha, whose boots were up on the table as she read the news sheet.
‘I wonder if she’s dead,’ said the mortal. ‘That would explain it.’
‘Maybe she’s just resourceful.’
Bekha snorted. ‘Lady Aila wasn’t the worst of them by any stretch of the imagination, but she’s still a demigod and, deep down, they’re all the same. Arrogant, spoiled, entitled. I’d bet this Aila wouldn’t have the first idea of how to survive without all the comforts and wealth that have cushioned her life for so long.’
Aila narrowed her eyes. ‘But she’s been alive for nearly eight hundred years; she must have learned a thing or two.’
‘You’re the last person I thought would be defending them,’ said Bekha, raising an eyebrow.
‘I’m not defending them, I’m defending her,’ Aila said. She rubbed her face. ‘If she’s standing up to Duke… I mean Prince Marcus, then she’s fine by me.’
‘A lot of Evaders would disagree with you; the prince has restored order in the Circuit, and we’ve not had a riot since he took over. The place is actually starting to recover.’
‘Come on,’ said Aila; ‘he paid for the riots, and now that they’ve stopped, he’s taking the credit for bringing peace back to Medio? He set the whole thing up, and now he looks like a hero?’ She shook her head. ‘It won’t last. Once the ordinary folk in the City see that he’s only interested in power and helping his Roser lackeys, they’ll realise how good we used to have it with Khora in charge.’
Bekha stared at her. ‘Khora? Stormfire, are you feeling alright? For years, I’ve heard you say nothing but bad things about her, and now you’ve decided that she was actually all right?’
Aila felt a tight knot form in her stomach, and she looked away. While she was using her powers to appear as Stormfire, she knew that Bekha wouldn’t be able to see any tears if she cried, but she was determined to keep her composure.
‘Well?’ said Bekha.
‘At least Khora never sent Blades into the rest of the City.’
‘Most Evaders would rather have them in the streets than the Tarans. The best thing Marcus has done is to pull the Rosers out of the Circuit.’
‘Yeah, but where has he put them? In the fortresses along the Union Walls. Why?’
Bekha shrugged. ‘They needed to go somewhere.’
‘But why the Union Walls? It’s to keep the folk of Medio out of Auldan.’
‘Now you’re just being paranoid.’
‘No, you’re being naïve. Do you think the new Prince of Tara cares about the people of Medio? His government’s made up of Rosers who think Evaders are barely human. I’d have never put you down as gullible, Bekha, but I guess I was wrong.’
Bekha frowned, and went back to reading the news sheet. Aila glanced at her for a moment then sighed, her eyes drifting over the damp walls of the cellar. She watched as a spider dangled from its web in the corner of the room, and wondered why her powers wouldn’t allow her to appear as an animal. A massive scary spider or a roaring dragon might be a useful disguise to terrify people. It would also be handy to appear as a rock or a tree.
She shook her head. After a month of hiding in damp cellars amid abandoned slum housing, she was starting to fray around the edges. Unable to reveal who she really was, she had been given no opportunity to talk to anyone about Corthie, or about what had happened in Pella. Sometimes she felt as if it had all been a dream, and she often wished that were true.
The handsome champion that she had loved was being portrayed as the murderer of Princess Khora, and Lord Kano as the heroic warrior who had apprehended and executed Corthie for the horrific crime. The new authorities had produced evidence that appeared to show Khora conspiring to have him killed, and, thus, Corthie’s motive had been revenge. The most frightening aspect of Marcus’s re-writing of history was that so few people seemed to question it. It was neat, and simple. Apart from Aila and her brother Kano, only a handful of Blades that had been present at the time knew the truth. As Stormfire, Aila had forced herself to sit in silence whenever she heard someone repeat the official version of events, and the only way to do that had been to suppress the memories herself. Because of that, she had hardly wept, not for Corthie’s death, nor for Khora’s; as if she were in denial about everything that had happened or, as if it had happened to someone else.
‘Do you want a drink?’
Aila glanced up. Bekha’s news sheet was lying folded upon the table and the woman was looking at her.
‘What?’
‘A drink? Do you want one?’
‘I don’t know. Do I?’
Bekha shook her head. ‘What’s the matter? You’ve been in a mood for days.’
‘I’ve been stuck in here for a month; no wonder I’m in a mood.’
‘You’re not stuck in here. As far as I know, the Blades aren’t looking for you; you could get up and walk out any time you like.’
‘Are you throwing me out?’
‘Of course not; after everything you’ve done for us, you can stay as long as you like. But, if you don’t tell us what, or who, is chasing you, there’s nothing we can do to help.’ She sighed and put her elbows on the table. ‘Look, we like having you here, but you seem… different, Stormfire, so I can only think that something bad has happened to you.’
Aila nodded and tried to remain calm, but was squirming on the inside. Different? She thought she had been playing the role of Stormfire well, but over time her own personality had been coming to the surface in her less-guarded moments. She had never appeared as someone else for anything close to a month before, and the mental effort had exhausted her.
‘I’m here for you,’ said Bekha, ‘if you ever want to talk about it.’
A young man barged into the room before Aila could respond. He rushed over to the table where they were sitting, panting. ‘Blades are approaching.’
Bekha swung her boots off the table. ‘From which direction?’
The young man stared at her. ‘All of them.’
‘Malik’s ass. They’ve found us.’
Aila got to her feet. ‘We need to get out of here.’
Bekha remained silent for a moment, then nodded. ‘Go and get your things, then meet me at the gate by the canal.’
‘They’re coming that way too,’ said the young man; ‘there’s no time.’
‘Calm yourself,’ said Bekha, rising.
They went through to the adjoining room and climbed the steps to the ground floor of the ruined warehouse where they had been staying. A handful of other dissidents were by the top of the stairs, their expressions lined with anxiety. Twenty yards away, by a massive set of gates, another one of their number was standing, her face peering through the broken glass.