Chapter 57
The breeze from the nearby threads rustled his hair, as Arico sat quietly atop the tower. This far up, he could see the lazy course the Waters were making south towards the sea. The crystalline wreck of the old Imperial Palace shone brilliantly up at him through the clear air.
Unlike the last time when he’d brought Jaas up here, this New Day was mostly clear of cloud cover. Arico could almost imagine he could see the people down there, living their lives in relative peace. He pictured them all: stra’tchi in their fields and workshops, Sustained in their markets, and manors and boats. Dwarves, buried under thousands of tons of rock. His friends in Tellek patch, clutching at their heads as their blood overheated and boiled out of their eyes and ears. Hundreds of others, cut open or otherwise maimed by Beasts under the silent direction of the Council.
So many hurt. So many dead. Arico had himself added thirteen more to the pile of corpses. Would it really matter if he killed a few dozen more, if it brought an end to the fighting? He felt, rather than heard, the vibrations as other people stepped out onto the tower. Based on their disciplined military tread, they were Ascendants. Arico sighed and got up slowly, careful not to let the sheer height cause him to sway.
He’d left his prosthetics back at the Hideaway. There didn’t seem to be much point in him pretending he was whole after all. These days one of the most well-known things about him was that he had no hands, and he would hate for some trigger-happy Ascendant to mistake who he was and shoot him before this process even got started.
Arico had also left Nemith back in the Hideaway, after they’d dropped Sabra off. They’d sent his letter off on the way as well. While they waited for the meeting up here on the tower, Arico had spent the time teaching Nemith and the others how to pull on the threads like he could.
He’d tried before, with the Hauld’s dwarven navigators, but without much luck. Thankfully this time had been different. Apparently it wasn’t a measure of pure navigating strength after all. They were all able to pull threads eventually, though nowhere near as efficiently as Arico could. Practice would probably change that. Already Arico was missing Jaas’ scholarly presence. She would have loved documenting how Nemith and the others were progressing with their new abilities.
Endu had also watched them practice; she was there to help out if someone got hurt. Arico was still surprised at how quickly they’d picked up the basics. Perhaps it was because Nemith and the others were humans, or perhaps what had happened to the dwarves had made it very easy for everyone to tap into the anger they needed. Maybe that was why the dwarves hadn’t been able to learn: as a race, dwarves were traditionally slow to anger.
Regardless of the cause it had worked, which meant that if he failed here at least Nemith could pick up where he left off. Almost offhandedly, Arico realized he would never see any of them again. He was confident they’d be all right, but still felt a strange sense of emptiness that joined in with the holes in his gut left by the Enclave and Jaas.
Now things had finally come to a head atop this tower. Shaking his head slowly, Arico turned to face the Ascendants. They stood at attention, but didn’t make any aggressive moves. Apparently his letter had left a big impression on Berilo.
The top of the tower was limited in space, but Arico could see more Ascendants stepping out of the threads onto the city wall below. His breath caught as he saw Durhu and the Hauld among them! They seemed unhurt, though Arico could hardly be sure at this distance. They were both bound and gagged, but stood proudly despite that. Durhu caught sight of him and nudged the Hauld. Arico tried to smile down at them reassuringly.
The only reason the Ascendants hadn’t already tried to take him by force was because of his strength as a navigator. He could beat anyone in the city—save perhaps Hazra—in a fight for control over where they were going. They might be able to sedate him, but it seemed pretty clear by now that his disappearing act after beating Ta’anu had become common knowledge. Even if they could take him alive, Berilo apparently wanted him to come along willingly so he wouldn’t just vanish at the first opportunity. Arico was happy to comply, if it put him in the right place at the right time.
Like some kind of demon summoned by his very thoughts, Berilo stepped out of the threads across from him. The tower’s roof was flat enough that they had no trouble seeing each other. “At last,” the old man said hesitantly after a moment’s pause. “I’d say this conversation is well overdue.”
Arico had studied Berilo in detail, of course. Every political move he’d ever made, every speech he’d given, every step he’d taken in his daily walks around Sevvas patch. Still, Arico had never been this close to his father by blood. Now that he had a good look, he could see some similarities in their stance and stature. Berilo was tall like him, but spindly as well. He stood straight but at ease, just like Arico did. Interesting.
“My terms are simple,” Arico began, not wasting time. “I’ll surrender myself to your custody, Lord Ascendant, in exchange for Durhu and the Hauld being set free. Neither of them is a navigator, but I have friends who can transport them to safety while I go with you.”
Berilo smiled faintly. “You have a very high opinion of your own value, heretic,” he said casually, glancing down at the prisoners below. “I’ve promised the city a public execution at the Twin Suns celebration. The masses are expecting to see the Hauld die there, and I’m afraid you’re simply not worth what you’re asking. Without the dwarves backing you, you’re nothing but a nuisance: barely worth the Council’s attention.”
“I’m worth more than you’re willing to admit, my liege,” Arico ground out, trying to appear as confident as he could. Just like Terres Huun, Berilo was arrogant and self-assured, and he definitely wouldn’t be willing to deal with Arico unless he could be convinced Arico was similar. “I’m the dreaded heretic! I’ve inspired patches all over this city to defy you and yours. I’ve made the Council’s life a living nightmare these past few months, and I guarantee this is just the beginning. If you’re not willing to trade for me, then you can rest assured things will only get worse from here on out.”
The Lord Ascendant gave a sharp laugh at that. “Well said, boy,” he added softly. “You clearly have a gift for self-embellishment, as do many of the Sustained Lords. You might have even been able to convince them you’re worth some effort, but I know better. You’re a dog without a master, and now you’re just barking to get attention.”
Time to go all in. Arico looked side to side at the guards. “There are things you don’t know, Berilo Fisher. Things I’m willing to discuss with you, but only in private.” He held Berilo’s glance for a few more moments, before looking at the guards again.
Berilo’s haughtiness faltered for a moment, but his unreadable politician’s face came back quickly. “Return to the threads,” he ordered the rest, and Arico was sure he could hear a note of curiosity in the old man’s voice, “but watch us closely. Only come to my aid if the heretic attacks.” As one, the Ascendants bowed and backed into the threads, leaving just the two of them.
Sound didn’t transmit into the threads, but Arico couldn’t be sure they didn’t have a lipreader among them. He was careful to keep his mouth covered as he took a single step forward. “My value to you is much greater than just that of a political tool, or a military target,” he said grimly. “I’m also your son, and Hazra’s twin brother.”
“I know,” Berilo said easily, almost bored-sounding.
Despite his training, Arico gaped at him. “You actually believe me?” He inquired hastily, and in shock. There had always been a chance Hazra would tell her father about him, but he’d expected some surprise and disbelief on the part of his rival here.
“I didn’t at first,” Berilo admitted, glancing down at the Spire to the south. He hesitated, and then covered his own mouth as well. It seemed he wanted to keep this a secret as well, at least for the time being.
”When Hazra first told me, it sounded preposterous,” he continued slowly. “How could you possibly be my son? It made no sense at all. But then… you’ve proven to be quite the nuisance ever since the Laentana. You’ve made the entire Council, myself included, look foolish on several occasions. Again and again you’ve avoided capture or significant injury.” He halted there for a moment and looked at the stump Arico was holding up over his mouth. “Until recently anyway. I do have other reasons to support the idea that you’re my child, but the most convincing one is the simplest: who else but my own flesh and blood could cause me so much trouble?”
So he was making it about himself, as he always did. Arico didn’t mind though, not if it helped his case. “Now that you have it confirmed, I make the offer again: myself for the Hauld and for Durhu. You can torture or execute me in their place at the Twin Suns—whatever you want to do, as long as they go free.”
Berilo smiled gently, or as gently as a monster like him was capable. “You are determined, Arico. I’ll give you that. Your loyalty to the dwarves and your…” He paused briefly, and his expression soured. “And your kidnapper, is quite impressive. I must ask, though. How do I know you’ll keep your word? If the rumors are to be believed, you can vanish into thin air. From anywhere, apparently, even if you’re far from the threads. What’s to stop you from waiting until after the trade and then making your escape?”
Arico snorted. “If I did that, then we’d both know just what kind of a man I am. We’ll make the trade publicly, with as many witnesses as possible. If I break my word, you’ll be able to tell the people the truth: that the heretic is just another oathbreaker; craven and untrustworthy.” Another thought occurred to Arico as he said it. “Come to think of it, I’m surprised you haven’t been saying that stuff about me already, just to discredit me.”
The old man shook his head. “If I did that, then we’d both know what kind of man I am as well. The Council might not care about honor or dignity in conflict, but I do. I’ve done what I can to keep this fight fair, as I hope you can agree.”
Arico did not. Poisoning people, and non-combatants at that, was hardly an act of fairness. The Beast attacks were also cowardly and evil. There was no way that Tenlor had killed Endu’s daughter without orders, either. Berilo and the rest of the Council had to know about that as well. He could hardly contradict Berilo right now though, not if he wanted his cooperation. And Arico did have to admit: he didn’t know how much of all this bloodshed had been mandated by the Council. For all he knew the Lord Ascendant had been opposed to some or all of it, and had been overruled by the majority of the Council.
Arico squared his shoulders. “As your only remaining son, I’m the best chance for House Fisher to survive into the future. I’m the only option you have left as an heir, like it or not.” That was a gamble, actually. Arico was useless as an heir because he was sterile. He only hoped that his adversary didn’t know that.
“Are you my only option, though?” Berilo asked sardonically, his gaze again sweeping the city. “You and Hazra both seem to think I’m backed into a corner when it comes to my legacy, but you’re both woefully mistaken.”
At first Arico didn’t quite follow. What could he mean? “Don’t get me wrong,” Berilo continued conversationally, “you’d be valuable to be sure, but you’re not the only choice. Tenlor had many, many mistresses all over the city, and quite a few bastard children. All I need to do is find the oldest male, and,” he snapped his fingers, “problem solved.”
“You don’t seriously expect the Council to accept a bastard as your heir, do you?” Arico said derisively. “All they care about is blood purity, after all.”
Berilo shrugged. “All I need to tell them is that he was born in wedlock, but raised in secret for his own safety. They may suspect something, but they’ll never be able to prove he’s anything but legitimate.”
At Arico’s surprised look, Berilo gave a brief laugh. “Come now, Arico, did you really think that any Sustained House has the full purity of blood that they claim? It’s not surprising; after all you haven’t had the chance to read the true histories about all the families, as I have. With the exception of our family and a few others who share our goals of breeding the perfect navigator, every House in the city has a few rotten apples grafted onto their family trees! Sustained Houses have been performing genealogical sleight-of-hand since the Threading itself: this would be nothing new. No, you are important to me, but you’re hardly irreplaceable.”
Arico supposed that made a sick sort of sense. The Council’s actions were ostensibly for the good of everyone, but all they did was cover up corruption and bigotry. He supposed it should be no surprise that their histories were just as false.
“I’m not suggesting you just set the Hauld and Durhu free,” Arico said, thinking quickly. He felt a trickle of sweat run down his back, and tried to keep his desperation from showing. If this negotiation failed, they’d both be killed anyway. He had to offer Berilo something else. “What if you declared them both outcast? Find some out-of-the-way patch to stash them, and make sure the whole city knows they’re off limits? Neither of them are navigators—they’ll stay where you put them!”
Outcasts were rare in Patchwork, but they did exist. They were always branded with the same symbol on their shoulder: a filled-in black circle. It marked the outcast forever as being unworthy of travel through the threads. No navigator would ever help them leave any patch—ever. Their lives would be forfeit if they even tried.
Berilo didn’t respond at first. He evaluated Arico’s expression and stance for a bit, and then looked down at the prisoners. It was clear to both of them that Arico was only making this suggestion as a gesture of good faith. If Berilo killed the prisoners, he’d lose Arico’s cooperation, and there would be nothing stopping him from just vanishing into the threads. If Arico betrayed Berilo, then the prisoners would be killed. It was a middle ground that Arico hoped would work for a short time—long enough for him to enact his plan. Hopefully Nemith would be able to rescue them later on, after Arico was dead.
“I suppose it could work,” Berilo said at last. Arico started to breathe a bit easier, but Berilo wasn’t done. “For one of them, anyway,” he continued. “Despite who you are, you’re still not worth both prisoners. If I were to ask you to choose which one of them gets to live, though-”
“The Hauld,” Arico cut him off immediately. “I choose the Hauld.”
This wasn’t spontaneity on Arico’s part. He’d already considered that he might have to choose between them, and he’d made his choice back in the Hideaway. Despite his love for Durhu, Arico knew that his foster father was a nobody in political terms. Executing him would be virtually worthless to the Council. Executing the Hauld on the other hand, would win them significant esteem with many of the Sustained and the other House Heads.
All the same, Berilo smirked at him. “No hesitation, just as I thought. You make a decision, and you stick with it. That’s admirable.”
He shook his head slowly. “The Hauld’s survival is non-negotiable, unfortunately. I don’t have any particular desire to kill him, but even if I was inclined to let him go, the Council and the rest of the people would insist he be punished. I am willing to spare Anathdur’hu, though, if he’s made outcast.” His voice took on a contemplative note. “I’ll send him back to Tellek patch, I think. It’s been his home for a long time, so it seems only fitting.”
The branding would be bad enough, but to be sent back home? “That’s not much of an offer,” Arico retorted. “Tellek is still poisoned. He’d be dead within days of being sent there. You’ll have to send him someplace else if you want me to agree.”
“Don’t test me, Arico,” Berilo said harshly, his voice suddenly thick with anger. “If I had my way, Anathdur’hu would be tortured, slowly, for days! I would want his chest torn open, and his ribs spread out in front of his very eyes, for taking you away from me. I would make his suffering the stuff of nightmares for years to come—don’t think that I wouldn’t! If he was a navigator, I’d knock him out and throw him into the threads so that he’d be left alone inside them. I only wish I could, so he would slowly go mad in there, for all eternity!”
Taken aback by the sudden burst of hatred and malice, Arico watched in pained fascination as Berilo slowly composed himself. He closed his eyes briefly, and grimaced as if purging some kind of poison from his veins. “Despite all of that, for you Arico, I will allow him to live. As long as he stays where he’s put and out of my business from now on.”
Berilo took a deep breath. “As for his survival, I’ll send a supply of the Waters along with him to Tellek patch. He’ll last a few days, until you or your navigator allies can resupply him. Your kidnapper will survive, which is far better than he deserves.”
For all his years spent studying Berilo and the Council, Arico had never actually thought of this situation from Berilo’s perspective. To Arico, Durhu had always been this gentle soul who’d been thoughtful, supportive, and generous with praise. He’d taught Arico so much, and had eventually learned to share that responsibility with the Hauld and the other dwarves. He was Arico’s father… but he had kidnapped him.
True, Arico’s life was infinitely better as a result. If he’d been raised in Sevvas patch, he might have ended up like Hazra, or worse, Tenlor. That was precisely what his mother had been trying to avoid. Still, after his mother had died, he had been stolen away from his father. Part of Berilo’s hatred was actually justified.
Berilo had apparently made up his mind. “Do we have a deal, then?” He extended a hand, and then stopped with a chagrined look. “My apologies. I suppose a nod will do.”
For some reason Arico was still hesitating. How could he make such massive decisions for the Hauld and Durhu? They were the ones who were supposed to make the tough calls, not him! But he had to. No one else could help them now, and if he surrendered peacefully, there was still a chance he could talk Berilo into sparing the Hauld, too.
“Let me sweeten the pot a little,” Berilo said suddenly, his eyes brightening a little. “Let’s both make a gesture of trust here, one that no one will be able to ignore. Swear ta’sana to me, here in front of everyone. That will ensure that we both respect this agreement. Anyone you brought along is welcome to listen in, if they like.”
Arico didn’t know what to think at first. Ta’sana was the very same oath that traitor Pratun had offered to swear to Arico, after his betrayal had been discovered and he was possibly facing a death sentence. The rules were complicated, for both the oathgiver and the one receiving that oath.
But… ta’sana was unbreakable. The rules of the oath were excessive, and would protect both Arico and Berilo in this case.
“For how long, though?” Arico asked suspiciously. Pratun had offered a lifetime oath, which Arico hadn’t been in any position to accept. Clearly that wasn’t an option here, either.
“Just a few days,” Berilo said dismissively. “Until the end of the Twin Suns ceremony. After that you’ll be free to leave if you wish. I’ll continue to honor my end and leave Anathdur’hu alone, of course. I’ll even promise not to use the ta’sana to harm your little revolutionary movement either.” He tilted his head slightly. “I doubt you can expect any more than that, considering the circumstances. So what do you say?”
It was a good deal. Far better than Arico had been hoping for, actually. He was still suspicious, but the ta’sana’s rules had been specifically written to hamper anyone from violating the trust of either party. They’d been the law at first, and had gradually become a myth so powerful that both stra’tchi and Sustained revered them. The oath would hold.
Gritting his teeth, Arico nodded. “We have a deal.”
The Lord Ascendant beckoned all around them, and one by one his guards stepped out onto the tower. As he took a deep breath and tried to remember the words, it occurred to Arico that for once, he was barely aware of the sheer height of this tower. Or of the consequences should he fall.
