Palimpsest

When she drove the dagger into his chest, the earth trembled and the river rose. The light that had lived in his body for centuries poured through the blade into hers. She shone brighter than anything living should.

Then the trembling stopped. The river calmed. The god was on the ground.

She was still standing. The dagger in her hand was unchanged. It was still just a simple blade with a worn handle. The witnesses did not know what to call what they had seen. They knew only that the most powerful thing in the world had just been killed with something that had probably been used to cut bread.

— Chronicle of the First Age. Ledger Archives, Marialis branch. Transcriber unknown.

Chapter 11 The Messy Place Called Home

The pounding on the wooden door made Vaelra jump upright in bed. She sat up instantly, though it took her a few seconds to realize where she was. The knocking came again, snapping her fully awake.

“Open the damn door, Vaelra!” Veylith shouted from the other side.

Vaelra knew Veylith almost never raised her voice like that. She jumped from the bed and rushed to the door. “What the fuck are y—”

She pulled the bolt back and opened it, but before she could finish the sentence Veylith pushed inside abruptly, Ravah right behind her. Veylith swept the room with a quick glance, then turned back immediately. “Where is she?” she demanded.

Vaelra blinked, confused. “What?”

“The girl, Vaelra. Where is she?”

“What’s with the temper, boss? She’s right th—”

Vaelra stopped mid-sentence when she saw the bed was empty. Her eyes shifted to the open window, the curtain moving slightly in the breeze. “Shit,” she muttered under her breath.

Ravah went to the window immediately and leaned out to check the street. “No tracks. She must’ve left a while ago.”

Veylith sank onto the bed beside her, looking both frustrated and strangely relieved.

“But why?” Vaelra murmured, still staring at the window.

“What’s all this noise?” Tivver burst into the room, Darian following behind him while rubbing sleep from his eyes.

“The girl’s gone,” Ravah said, stepping away from the window.

“Who, the red-haired lady? Why?” Tivver asked.

No one answered him. No one even looked at him.

“Maybe that’s for the best,” Veylith said quietly, staring into space.

Vaelra shot her a look of pure betrayal. Their eyes met for a moment before Veylith looked away and turned to Tivver and Darian. “She’s the one they’re looking for.”

“What do you mean she’s the one they’re looking for?” Tivver shouted, still half-asleep.

“They were talking while passing on patrol,” Ravah said from the other side of the room. “They’re not hunting us. They’re hunting the girl.”

“Why?” Darian asked calmly.

Ravah simply shook her head.

“We have to find her,” Vaelra said suddenly, her voice firm as she stared into the distance.

Veylith stood up angrily and stepped toward her. “Didn’t you hear what I said? They’re not looking for us. If we take her back with us we’ll be in troub—”

“I knew it,” Vaelra said, cutting her off.

They stood in the middle of the room, staring directly at each other.

“What?” Veylith asked.

“I knew it,” Vaelra repeated. “I suspected they were after her.”

“How?” Tivver asked.

Vaelra turned toward him. “Because of the blackout.”

“Blackout? What blacko—… Oh.”

“It was Kaelin. From what I understand it affected a large area. She told me.”

Ravah frowned in surprise, clearly thinking. “Everyone?” she murmured.

“What do you mean she told you?” Veylith snapped. “You knew this and didn’t think we should hear about it?”

Vaelra drew a slow breath and walked over to the window. “She didn’t do it intentionally. She had no idea why it happened or what her power even is. And honestly… she didn’t seem curious about it either.”

Veylith’s voice lowered slightly. “So? What difference does that make?”

“She had a dead man in her arms. She doesn’t know what she caused. She doesn’t know what she’s capable of. Patrols are hunting her. She has nowhere to go.”

Standing by the window, Vaelra turned to face Veylith. “If you were in her place, and a group that could protect you offered help… what would you do?”

Veylith looked back at her, something close to defeat in her eyes. “I’d use them,” she said quietly.

“And what did she do?”

“She ran,” Darian said from beside the door.

“Because…” he began.

“Because,” Vaelra continued, turning to the others, “even though she doesn’t understand the trouble she’s in, even though she has nowhere else to go, she didn’t want to drag us into it.”

She walked right up to Veylith and looked up into her eyes. “Because she’s better than you.” Then she turned away and began stuffing her clothes and belongings into her bag.

“You can call me irrational,” she said while packing. “I’ll probably bring serious trouble down on myself. But I know I can help that girl. If I don’t go after her now, when I still can, then whatever happens to her will partly be my fault.”

“Oh, for fuck’s sake, you crazy bitch!” Tivver shouted. “One day these insane decisions are going to get you killed.” He let out a long breath. “Give me five minutes. I need to gather my underwear.” He headed back to his room. Darian followed him without a word.

Vaelra allowed herself a small smile as she continued packing.

Veylith looked at Ravah. Ravah shook her head slowly.

Veylith turned back to Vaelra and watched her pack. She sighed, rolling her eyes toward the ceiling. Standing in the middle of the room, she cracked her neck from side to side. “Do you at least know where we’re supposed to find her?”

Vaelra turned toward her with a faint, proud grin. “I have somewhere in mind.”

◈◈◈

I hope Vaelra doesn’t get angry that I stole one of her jackets, Kaelin thought as she crouched behind piles of garbage in a dark alley. While waiting for the patrols to pass, she kept thinking about how gently Vaelra had tucked her into bed.

The last time anyone had treated her like that was probably when she was a child—when her mother was still alive. “I would’ve only brought them more trouble anyway. This is better,” she told herself. But the moisture gathering in her eyes suggested otherwise.

The patrol seemed to take much longer to pass than she expected. Or maybe the cold made it feel that way. Even in summer, the hours before sunrise could be bitterly cold. Anyone who worked nights or returned home at this hour knew it well. Kaelin suddenly remembered how many mornings she had walked home at this time.

Back then she was always moving, never standing still, so she had never realized how cold it could feel. But during the past few months, the cold hadn’t mattered. Because she wasn’t walking alone anymore. Instead of returning home alone, she would lean against someone she cared about. Remembering those moments now only made her feel even more broken.

When the patrol’s voices finally faded down the street, Kaelin slipped out from her hiding place and quickly crossed the road into the opposite alley. She stayed within the shadows, avoiding the light in case someone might be watching from afar.

Reaching the end of the alley, she stopped before stepping onto the street. Pressing herself against the corner of the stone building, she leaned out just enough to look left with one eye.

“Shit.”

The patrol had stopped at the end of the street and were talking among themselves. From this distance she couldn’t make out what they were saying. And since they were standing at a four-way intersection, they didn’t seem inclined to move. Before reaching the intersection, Kaelin lived in one of the two-story wooden houses on the right side of the road.

The buildings here weren’t tall or made of stone like most of the city, but they were wider. Two entire blocks were filled with large wooden houses. During the great war, this district had been set aside as a refuge for people fleeing from Varn. Later those refugees settled permanently. They tore down the small shacks and built larger houses, squeezing themselves into smaller rooms while renting out the rest. Eventually the area became known for its boarding houses. Two years ago Kaelin had rented a large room here from a Varnese landlady named Marenvha. The prices were reasonable, and since she began working at the Red Lantern she had been earning fairly well.

She could have saved enough money to move into her own place by sleeping with clients. But what would be the point of living somewhere bigger?

Still watching the guards from the corner, Kaelin waited for an opening to cross. Directly across the street there was a narrow gap between two buildings barely the width of a shoulder. If she slipped through it, she could reach the space between the houses and approach her home from the back.

While she waited for the guards to move away or check another street, a sudden gray flash appeared far off near the harbor. The light flickered once and vanished. Both the guards and Kaelin noticed it at the same moment.

But as reality returned—and the cold bit deeper—Kaelin realized she couldn’t miss this opportunity. There was no time to think. She sprinted across the street and threw herself into the narrow gap, collapsing against the wooden wall and breathing hard.

After several deep breaths she managed to steady herself. Leaning forward slightly, she peeked again toward the guards. They were still staring in the direction of the flash. She still couldn’t hear what they were saying, but it was clear their conversation had grown more heated.

Feeling slightly calmer, Kaelin remained seated where she had collapsed, leaning her head back against the wall while looking up at the faint streaks of light beginning to appear in the dark sky. It would not be more than an hour before sunrise, yet she felt so exhausted…

“Come on. Get your ass up already. I’ve been through too much to give up now,” she whispered to herself.

As a little strength slowly returned to her body, she pushed herself to her feet and began walking through the narrow gap. After ten or fifteen steps, a much wider opening appeared on her left—almost the width of half a street.

The buildings here had been constructed in large blocks. Instead of a single row of buildings between streets, there were two rows, meaning their backs faced this open space rather than the street behind them. Someone unfamiliar with the area would never notice these garden-like inner spaces hidden between the buildings. Still, it wasn’t really a garden, since narrow passages from the surrounding buildings opened into it. Most buildings didn’t even have a back door facing this space. Some residents climbed down from their windows with ladders, while others kept their windows shut to avoid attracting thieves.

As Kaelin walked across the open area and saw no one at the windows or outside, she assumed the Red Lantern must still be closed. Of course, people with different professions lived in these buildings as well, but usually the rented rooms were taken by people working in the same trades.

At this hour it was normal not to see those who worked during the day, but for others this was either the time to return home or to have breakfast before sleep. Yet there was no one around.

Maybe that’s for the best, she thought. She approached the building on the left corner.

Kaelin’s social circle barely exceeded the fingers of one hand, and she didn’t trust people much in general. So there was no ladder leading to her second-floor window. But she had climbed up there many times before. Perhaps she should thank Mrs. Marenvha—the landlady who sometimes waited for her at the door to collect rent—and the worthless men who occasionally followed her home. Without them, she might never have learned how to climb so well.

Stepping on the other windows and the beams jutting from the wall, she reached her own window. Because she had set up a simple lock on the inside, the two wooden shutters couldn’t simply be pulled open. She removed the thin metal hairpin she always kept in her hair and slid it through the narrow gap between the shutters. Lifting the small hook on the inside with the pin, the lock popped open.

The hairpin hadn’t originally been meant for picking locks. But she always kept it with her anyway. For a woman living in this city—especially one who worked nights—walking around without something sharp was simply foolish.

She slipped inside quietly and closed the shutters behind her. She knew she couldn’t stay here long. They could find where she lived and start hunting her at any moment.

A small part of the wide room served as a kitchen. The rest was simply chaos.

Clothes lay scattered across the bed. On the kitchen table were leftovers from yesterday, empty wine bottles with their mouths open, a large blanket covering part of the long couch, and a pillow tossed beside it. On the small table next to the couch stood another bottle, an ash-covered tray, and two half-smoked tobacco sticks.

After grabbing a few clothes from the bed, Kaelin approached the couch. She picked up a silver necklace from the table and sat down. For a moment she looked at the necklace in her hand and thought about her mother. It was the most precious thing she had left from her, yet she had never worn it. After squeezing the necklace tightly in her fist, she dropped it into the satchel at her waist. Then she leaned forward and reached beneath the couch.

Her hand searched along the floor as if feeling for something hidden there. Finally she pulled out a small dagger.

Kaelin barely remembered her father. He had died when she was seven. Her mother had said he died in a street fight, though she never liked talking about it. When Kaelin was younger, she used to imagine her father as a warrior whenever she looked at this dagger. Even though she barely knew him, she wanted to believe he had been a hero. A good man.

Back then the dagger had looked like a sword in her tiny hands. Whenever she ran around the house pretending to be a warrior with it, her mother would scold her—and then hide the dagger again. Whenever Kaelin drank too much, she would light some tobacco, take out the dagger, and examine it quietly.

After letting out a deep sigh, she strapped the dagger to her belt and stood up. She grabbed the wine bottle from the table and lifted it to eye level, peering inside. There were maybe three fingers’ worth of wine left.

“Just for the cold,” she muttered to herself, as if she needed an excuse. Then she tilted the bottle back and drank the rest in a single swallow. “Ugh!” She grimaced at the sharp taste of the warmed wine.

Walking to the window, she pushed the shutters open. Before climbing out, she turned one last time to look at the room—the messy place she called home. She knew she probably wouldn’t return here again. Still, a small piece of hope lingered inside her. She swung one leg out the window and climbed down.

After landing on the ground, she paused and listened carefully to her surroundings. The only sounds were the distant voices of patrols somewhere beyond the buildings. Once she was certain it was safe, she began walking back the way she had come.

Directly across from the narrow passage leading here was another opening that would take her to the lower street. From there she planned to make her way toward the harbor.

But after reaching the middle of the open space, she stopped suddenly. She lifted her head and looked at the upper window of the building to her left. The window was slightly open, though no light came from inside.

Looking at the wooden ladder that led up to it, Kaelin hesitated. Logic and emotion wrestled inside her. She needed to run. But…

In the end, she made her decision. And moved.

◈ ◈ ◈

Irritated by the fact that he had just finished his last tobacco, Rhoren continued waiting with his men at the head of the wide avenue leading to the Red Lantern. He sat on the step of a house entrance, rubbing his hands together against the cold. The sky was beginning to lighten when he finally saw Tarr’en approaching down the road.

“Finally,” he muttered to himself with a sigh. He stood up and began smoking faster, as if determined to finish the tobacco before Tarr’en reached him.

“I hope you didn’t have to wait too long, Captain,” Tarr’en said while walking past him, barely sparing him a glance.

Rhoren finished the last drag and flicked the stub to the ground, watching the man with clear irritation as he crushed the tobacco under his boot.

He started following Tarr’en, but after only a few steps Tarr’en stopped suddenly. “I don’t need an escort here, Captain.” He paused briefly. Since Rhoren only responded with a low grunt, Tarr’en continued.

“You can disperse your men and reopen the district in ten minutes.” He started walking again—then stopped once more. “And don’t forget our business in the old Varn district.”

With that, he continued toward the Red Lantern.

Rhoren watched him go with a scowl, wondering how much longer he could tolerate that man. If he keeps trying to teach me how to do my job, I might retire early, he thought bitterly.

He turned to his men. Approaching one of them quietly, he said, “Spread the word. Ten minutes from now we open the passages and disperse. No one goes home except those whose shift is finished. I want double patrols at the harbor.”

After glancing around to be sure no one else was listening, he added, “Then gather your six most reliable men and find me. We’ve got another job.”

The soldier nodded and quickly moved to whisper the orders to the others before disappearing down the street.

At the same time, Tarr’en stepped into the main hall of the Red Lantern. He saw Mistress Vahl leaving her office with the short-haired woman who looked like her bodyguard. Tarr’en approached them.

The mistress leaned toward the woman beside her, whispered something, and sent her away before turning to face him.

“Miss Vahl,” Tarr’en said with a nod.

She did not return the greeting. Watching him with a cold, distant expression, she simply waited.

“The district is now secure,” Tarr’en said. “Everyone is free to return home.”

“Thank you,” she replied with a brief nod. She turned toward the corridor of rooms.

Tarr’en found her cold attitude strange. “Excuse me,” he added quickly. “Before I leave, may I use your washroom?”

She paused for a moment but did not turn. “Second door on the left,” she said flatly, and continued walking.

Tarr’en watched her leave for a moment before heading toward the doors on the left.

Inside he found a small but spotless washroom clearly meant for guests. He raised his eyebrows slightly in mild dissatisfaction.“It’ll do,” he muttered.

After closing the door behind him, he stood before the small mirror on the wall and stared at his reflection for a few seconds. He pressed his left hand to his chest and raised his right arm as if reaching for something unseen. Closing his eyes, he began moving his lips. Though no sound came out, it was clear he was whispering something under his breath.

Finally he opened his eyes. They glowed in the mirror with a faint gray light. He tilted his head upward toward the ceiling and opened his palm with tense fingers.

Above the Red Lantern building, a sudden flash of light burst into existence.

Rhoren and his men—already leaving the district—noticed the flash and turned back. But they saw nothing. Whatever it had vanished as quickly as it appeared. The men whispered among themselves in confusion. He turned back toward the road and continued walking, muttering quietly. “What are you chasing, Ledger snake?”

Inside the hall, the Mistress announced loudly that the guests and workers were free to go home.

As people began leaving their rooms and stepping into the hall, she felt a wave of relief. At last the absurd night was over. Now she could process the message from management—and the orders that came with it. Perhaps after a few hours of sleep.

But when the guests entered the hall, she noticed something strange. They were looking around in confusion, asking each other questions. One of the regular customers she recognized approached her. Looking puzzled, the man asked, “Why did you keep us here all night?”

She hesitated. “After the incident during the night, the wardens sealed the building. I apologize again for—”

The man cut her off, his face completely blank. “What incident?