Palimpsest

The administrators of Nirali are not elected, not appointed by the guild, and not born to their offices. They rise through the work itself. The harbor director begins on the docks; the archive head begins shelving scrolls. By the time a person reaches the table where the city's decisions are made, they have done every job beneath them, and the people who do those jobs now were taught by them.

This is considered the city's central safeguard. An administrator who has forgotten the work cannot be obeyed by those still doing it, and in Nirali obedience has never been compelled. It has only ever been extended.

— On the Governance of the Free Cities. Compiled by the Cindorian Institute of Letters, and suppressed within the year of its first printing.

Chapter 42 Welcome to Nirali

Her hair still wasn't quite dry, but the breeze coming through the window met it in the warm evening air and gave her that cool feeling she loved best. Even so, as she pulled on the clean dress someone had thoughtfully laid out across the bed, her mind kept circling back to the moment that had just passed. She hadn't looked at Elis that way before — though, to be fair, there'd hardly been the chance. Until tonight she had only ever been a woman Kaelin worried about, someone who needed help. But that look under the flickering lamplight had drawn an entirely different picture of her, and now Kaelin couldn't get it out of her head. No one had touched her like that since Mayra, and to know someone saw her that way was the most honest thing a woman could be given. Whether the turmoil rising in her came from Elis or from the feeling itself — that was the question she couldn't get her hands around. And with someone else nearby beside whom she felt safer than she had in longer than she could remember, the two thoughts kept tangling into each other.

Knock, knock!

The rapping pulled her back to herself, and she realized she'd done up the back of her dress wrong. Still shaking off the noise in her head, she started for the door, undoing the two top buttons as she went, then stopped a moment to make certain every button was where it belonged before she opened it.

On the other side stood a slender woman in a long black dress, her back turned. For a heartbeat Kaelin didn't understand what she was looking at — and then the woman turned, and the shock landed all at once. It was Veylith, in an elegant evening gown, looking back at her with more discomfort on her face than Kaelin had ever seen there. The black silk traced her slender frame exactly, and a single deep slit at the neck bared her collarbones, leaving her more graceful than she'd ever looked. The low-heeled shoes she could clearly barely balance in, and a pair of gold earrings, finished the whole thing off.

"So?" Veylith spread her arms and gave Kaelin, who was busy taking her in, a hopeless look.

"I think a lot of people are going to hit on you tonight," Kaelin said, dead serious. "Me included."

"Shut up." Veylith shoved her lightly and swept past into the room. "I look ridiculous." She crossed to the foot of the bed in a lopsided gait. "And these shoes were built for torture. I don't know how women walk in them."

Kaelin shut the door. "You are a woman — you know that, right?" She went to her and caught her by the arms, where the thin sleeves showed the body underneath. "A very beautiful one." She held her eyes a moment, then steered her down. "Now sit."

"Sure." Veylith dropped onto the bed without a fight, the word soaked in sarcasm.

Kaelin crossed to her saddlebag on the far side of the bed, dug out a few small strips of leather, and came back. She knelt in front of Veylith where she sat on the edge of the mattress, took one foot by the ankle, and lifted it.

"What are you doing?" Veylith startled.

"Shut up," Kaelin shot back, and fitted one of the leather strips into the heel of the shoe. "You'll thank me later." She did the same to the other, and when she'd finished she stood and offered her hand. Veylith took it without a word, and Kaelin pulled her up. "Better?"

The satisfaction on Veylith's face answered before she did. "Much."

"I know." Kaelin slipped the same strips into her own shoes. "But something's still missing." She reached for a dark green tulle shawl lying on the bed. "Your shoulders are far too good to hide, and I know you won't be cold — but still." She looped it around Veylith's neck and let it settle gently over her shoulders, then stepped back to look. "Much better." Veylith said nothing, but the helpless look on her face said plenty.

"May I escort you, my lady?" Kaelin held out her arm and threw in a sly smile.

"Whatever." Veylith sighed, wearing the face of a woman thoroughly done with the evening, and took it.

Arm in arm, they stepped out into the hall, and Kaelin dropped her voice low to needle her. "If you're a good little doll tonight, I'll buy you a pearl necklace, too."

"I hate you."

"Don't say that, sweetheart," Kaelin went on in the same deep voice — and then lost it and laughed.

A few steps on, Veylith stopped short. "Maybe I shouldn't come. I don't even have my weapons on me." She let go of Kaelin's arm. "I'll just put my own clothes back on," she said, and turned to go.

Kaelin caught her by the hand. "Oh, come on — quit fussing." She started towing her back toward the stairs. "You don't need weapons at dinner. If it's that serious, use the cutlery."

Dragged along against her will, Veylith muttered, "Honestly, not a bad idea."

"I was joking, you freak." Kaelin kept right on hauling her. Trading jabs the whole way, they went down the stairs and out of sight.

◈◈◈

The great hall on the top floor of the central building gave the impression of a ballroom — pale yellow walls rising off a floor of bright grey stone, red tulle draped along them. Strip away the flowers in their many-colored vases and all that red, though, and it was just a wide, plain room. What made it a ballroom was the long wooden table at its center, set for ten, and the smaller, taller tables ringed around it bearing drinks. Those little tables were already crowded with guests, and a low haze of mingled conversation filled the room. Then, all at once, the haze broke apart, and every head turned toward the two women standing in the doorway.

"Think you can reach the cutlery from here?" Kaelin whispered to Veylith at her side, a false smile pinned up to cover her nerves.

"I could just use our shoes," Veylith answered, far more at ease, barely moving her lips.

The others were already there — Vaelra and Tivver had a head start on the drinking. Ravah and Darian stood off in another corner with Quivar. Tivver had put on a formal black suit with gold buttons, and his shoes, black as they were, all but shone; only the pair of tools poking out of his two pockets gave him away to a careful eye. Beside him, Vaelra, in a deep emerald gown with faint gold embroidery and her shoulders left bare, was in the running for the most beautiful woman in the room. Darian wore white with black piping and looked, from across the floor, like some general — and Kaelin caught sight of a glass in his hand for the first time. Next to him Ravah tugged at her hem; her short white dress, gold-stitched and tied at the neck, fell open into a deep neckline. It fit her perfectly, though it had maybe come out a touch too short for her height, Kaelin thought. The tattoos running over every inch of her only made her look more exotic.

There were a few faces in the hall Kaelin and Veylith didn't recognize. But before they could do anything about it, Quivar had appeared at their elbow. "Please, don't hover — come join us." He pressed a glass of wine into each of their hands and drew them in. As much as Kaelin liked his warmth, the ease with which he won over everyone in a room was starting to unsettle her.

"I hope you managed to rest," said Orsillia, coming over now in a long amethyst gown, her dark purple hair let down a little more than before.

"Everything was wonderful." Kaelin dipped her head, driving an elbow into Veylith's side as she did. "Far more than we'd hoped for."

"Uhm — yes. We're grateful for your hospitality," Veylith managed, a clumsy echo. A flicker of exasperation crossed Kaelin's face, but it only brought a smile to Orsillia's. "They're far sweeter than we expected, aren't they, love?" Orsillia hooked an arm around Quivar's waist.

"They are. I never imagined the rebels from the stories would be this charming." He covered her hand with his.

"Oh — I didn't realize you two were together," Kaelin said, caught off guard.

"We simply hadn't had the chance to mention it. We've been married over ten years." Quivar looked up at Orsillia, a good head taller than him. "She's my powerful goddess."

"And he's the gentle soul I've always tried to be," Orsillia answered, holding his gaze.

"Don't let them fool you," Vaelra called from behind, drifting over with a glass in hand. "They're at least ten times as dangerous as they are sweet. The red one especially," she added, flashing Kaelin a sly grin.

"Drunk already, before we've even eaten?" Veylith cut in. "Not like you at all," she added, dry.

Quivar lifted Orsillia's hand from his waist and kissed it. "While I walk this beautiful woman to the table, why don't you introduce our guests to the others?" He turned toward Vaelra. Orsillia smiled after him and looked back to Kaelin and Veylith. "Please — follow me," she said, and started at an unhurried pace toward the windows. Kaelin followed, Veylith laboring along behind.

Orsillia drew up to two people talking by the glass and broke in gently. "Pardon me. Let me introduce Veylith and Kaelin." She gestured to a tall man, only a shade shorter than Veylith. "This is the head of the Pleasure Chambers, Galen Vorvik." He was a human in his early forties, dark red shirt over black trousers and shoes, a silver chain showing at the open collar. What caught Kaelin most was the way he'd swept his long auburn hair — shaved close at the sides — back and gathered it behind his head.

"A pleasure," Galen said, kissing each of their hands in turn. "Is it true you broke a large-scale seal by killing a judge in a Red Lantern house?" He let go of Kaelin's hand. Beside her, Veylith was busy measuring the thin dagger at his belt.

"Not on purpose," Kaelin said, plainly uncomfortable. "But… yes, you could put it that way."

"Didn't I tell you not to badger the girl with your tactless questions?" The dwarf woman at his side rounded on him — long orange hair, impossible to miss — then turned and offered Kaelin her hand. "I'm Vexila Thundrok, administrator of the harbor district." When Kaelin shook it, she tipped her head at Galen. "Don't mind him. He's hopeless for stories like this."

"So you're telling me you weren't impressed by what this sweet girl pulled off, Vexi?" Galen pressed.

"We're all impressed. We just don't ask people how they killed someone, you idiot," she said, somehow managing to shout it in a whisper. Then she turned to Veylith, took her hand, and kissed it with real grace. "Your name on a battlefield runs ahead of you. A pleasure to meet you."

"Uhm." Veylith stalled under Kaelin's barely-stifled smirk. "Thanks," she got out at last, around something that was trying to be a smile.

"So I can't ask my questions, but you hitting on her is fine — is that it?" Galen said, wrecking the moment.

"Shut up." Vexila shot him a look that could kill, then snapped back into her sweet-hostess face and smiled at Veylith as she released her hand.

"These two oversee more than half of Nirali's economy and keep it running," Orsillia said, trying to herd the conversation back on course, "and after all these years I still haven't worked out the strange friendship between them."

"What friendship?" Vexila asked, turning to her.

"You don't have to play so refined, queen of the north," Galen said, rolling his eyes.

"Honestly, I'm rather used to this," Kaelin said, smiling, her gaze wandering over the rest of the room before she could stop it.

"There's one more person I'd like you to meet." Orsillia extended an arm toward the far side of the hall. "Shall we?"

"It was lovely to meet you both," Kaelin said, slipping past Galen and Vexila and hauling Veylith along.

"You're always welcome down at my place by the harbor," Vexila called after them — and met Galen's judging stare. "What?"

"Just blaming myself for never teaching you how to talk to women."

"You never figured out how to talk to people, and I don't blame myself for that," Vexila returned. Then they both turned to the window and went back to their drinks.

When Kaelin and Veylith reached the much lower table in the opposite corner, they found Tivver drinking and chatting with a woman — a gnome with cropped pink hair and a decidedly peculiar sense of style, near enough his own height. By the look of them, the two were having a fine time.

"Forgive me for cutting in on your conversation, but there are two more people I'd like you to meet, Nivela Trenkish," Orsillia said.

"Ah — these must be Kaelin and Veylith." Nivela turned to them without putting down her glass. "Tiv was just telling me how you fought off the barbarians on your way to the caves."

"Tiv?" Kaelin said.

"Fought off?" Veylith said, in the same breath.

"Yes — I was telling her how we battled the barbarians on our trail," Tivver pressed, widening his eyes at Veylith where Nivela couldn't see.

"Right," Veylith said, eyeing him.

"It's a real pleasure to meet you," Nivela said, melting the moment with an enormous smile despite them.

"Nivela runs the archive and the library — the most knowledgeable person I know," Orsillia said.

"You have a library here, too?" Kaelin asked, surprised.

"The largest in the north," Nivela put in. "Tiv and I already planned to have lunch together tomorrow. If you come along, I can show you the whole thing afterward."

"I'd love that. Vaelra might even want to come."

"Of course. The more the merrier, no?" Nivela said, turning to Tivver.

"Absolutely," he said, smiling at her — and then turned to Kaelin with something close to a murderer's expression. "Please. Join us." Kaelin, oddly, shrank from the look. It took her a moment to understand she'd just walked straight into the middle of his plans.

Orsillia traded a discreet glance with Quivar, gave him a small signal, and turned to the center of the room. "We're still one short, but I think we can begin moving to dinner," she said, lifting her voice a little and gesturing at the table. One by one the others drifted over and began finding their places. Orsillia and Quivar took the two ends; everyone else spread out along the sides. As Kaelin sank into the chair at Orsillia's right, Galen moved to take the seat beside her — but Veylith was faster, dropping into it ahead of him. Grateful, Kaelin touched her arm. When Veylith faced front again, though, she found Vexila watching her, steadily, from directly across the table.

Once everyone had settled, Orsillia rose, tapped a fork against her glass, and gathered the room. "First, let me say welcome. It's an honor to host old friends and new companions at the same table. Tonight we've gathered to make the new faces among us feel, even a little, at home — and to show them that on the road they've set out upon, we stand behind them." Her eyes moved over all of them, and when they reached Kaelin, she smiled. "It seems we may have found our first true hope against the Ledger's grip, against the oppression that has run for hundreds of years. And as Orsillia Gre'koth — head servant of Nirali, the voice of the Red Lantern in this city — I promise to do everything in my power." Then she pressed on, with far more fire in it. "I raise my glass to the new rebellion — the name the people gave it, which I take as a wink from fate — and to the brave souls behind it. To Red Dawn!"

"To Red Dawn," Quivar and the rest answered as one, and tipped back their wine.

Kaelin and the others sipped theirs, a little hesitant, a little startled, glancing at one another over the rims. And then the thoughts she'd held at bay so long — through the barbarians, through the dark of the caves, through the enchantment of Nirali — finally found her. The truths, and the dangerous weight that came bound to them, came climbing back up through the cracks toward the surface.