Yuromi’s footsteps echoed softly on the deserted cobblestones, a stark contrast the regular bustle of Caso’s streets and avenues. It was painful to grasp just how far Caso could fall in such a short period of time. The city, once a vibrant tapestry of people from across the starlight sea, now felt like a shell of its former self; an echo of how she too felt. She walked in sandals, dressed in civilian clothes she hadn’t worn in years. Her resignation from the Soldiers Guild had been the hardest decision of her life and yet, it was also the easiest. It was difficult to explain, how both feelings, opposites, were true. Just as how she both regretted the choice, and yet knew it to be the right path. No longer would she be a tool for abuse and death. Yet, without the guild, she felt empty. It had been her everything, her very self. Her friends, her family, her second home.
Now she drifted like a ship without a rudder in the only direction she could think of; to the only place where she had friends who weren’t associated to the guild. She walked through the empty streets until the buildings became older and narrower, where the rooftops pierce skywards. She crossed the smaller southern canal and stopped in front of the Gaagian homebase within the spires. She needed to talk through her muddled thoughts. She knocked hard against the ornate old wooden door. Silence met her efforts.
“He’s not here,” a soft voice said from behind her. Yuromi turned in surprise to find a familiar face. Kuta, Minoc’s Aginjigaade stood behind her clothed in her white robes. Yuromi looked down at her own clothes, feeling embarrassed by her disheveled appearance. “You look good” Kuta said, following Yuromi’s gaze.
Yuromi shrugged, “I didn’t realize you had poor eyesight.”
“I didn’t mean the clothes” Kuta said. “You look… less burdened.”
Yuromi sighed, “I don’t feel less burdened. Where have they gone?” Yuromi asked.
Kuta hesitated for a moment before saying, “I sent Gaba’ké to fetch them. They’ll be back later. Tonight maybe” Yuromi detected something unspoken in her words. “Come,” Kuta continued, “I know where we’ll be able to find them.”
“Where to?” Yuromi asked, hesitantly.
“To my place” Kuta said. “We can chat while we wait.”
The journey to Kuta’s apartment was uncomfortable. It wasn’t the lack of conversation, but the lack of all conversations. The normal bustle was gone. Empty shops and food stalls. Boarded up windows lined each street. Shops appeared closed, a reminder of growing scarcities. People were hoarding. Windows were shuttered. Stalls were as vacant as the eyes of the few people still about. The ones they passed didn’t stroll. Only soldiers loitered outside in the hot sun. It all felt lifeless. The only place with any semblance of a crowd was the neighbourhood fountain, where people were lined up in a tangled maze to stockpile as much water as each family could carry.
Kuta led Yuromi to an unfamiliar neighbourhood. It wasn’t as nice as the one her home was in and despite being newer, it appeared more run down than even the spires. After a while she noticed that the young Aginjigaade was leading her in circles at times. It took another small detour for Yuromi to realize that Kuta was purposefully avoiding the roaming bands of soldiers and those loitering shaded streetcorners. The realization puzzled her.
Then, she grasped why. Yuromi watched from the corner of her eyes as a pair of soldiers stalked an unsuspecting man as he tried to walk by. Yuromi couldn’t help herself and she stopped to watch. A knot of anger tightened in her stomach as they harassed the stranger. It made her sick to watch. The soldiers confiscated several items in broad daylight, as if they were doing a great service to the city by looting fruit. Their eyes swiveled to Yuromi, watching from a distance and Kuta’s pull was the only thing that kept her from marching over and…. And what? I’m not a soldier anymore. What could I have done?
“Kuta” Yuromi said as they ducked into a narrow alleyway. “What is happening to this city?” Yuromi asked rhetorically. “How did it get so…”
“Bad?” Kuta finished. Yuromi nodded. “It’s always been a bit like this” Kuta said softly, her eyes fixed ahead on the alleyway. “It was just harder to notice amongst the good things that have since disappeared.” Yuromi thought on that. She had trouble accepting them as truth. “You’ve never been in places like this before, have you?” Kuta asked. “Beyond the main avenues, in the forgotten corners? Back here, this is how it’s always been.”
“But you’re not even from here” Yuromi protested, not wanting to believe it.
“My cousins’ family…” Kuta said carefully, “lived around Caso. They’ve been here as long as Caso has been free of kings. Only some things changed when the Guilds took over.”
The two women stepped from the alleyway and spotted another pair of soldiers loitering ahead, blocking their path. “That’s the apartment” Kuda whispered, pointing to a building next to the two soldiers. “We’ll need to go around” she added, trying to pull Yuromi back into the shadows.
“Nonsense” Yuromi said, “Its too hot today. Let’s just walk past them. What are they going to do? We don’t have anything.”
“No. No. No!” Kuta insisted as Yuromi stepped out into the street. “You don’t understand,” she pleaded, “there is always something they can take.”
Yuromi ignored her friend and continued walking. Kuta scurried up next to her and hissed under her hood, “They might not bother you, but me…. Once they see my face, there’ll be trouble.”
“For what?” Yuromi scoffed. Kuta didn’t have the words to answer such a heavy question.
The pair of soldiers noticed them at once. “You two,” they said, approaching, “Where are you off to in such a hurry? Scurrying around alleyways is not place for fine respectable ladies” They stopped just a few paces ahead, blocking the path. The one soldier leaned casually on a post that held no awning, while the other smiled with a charm that Yuromi could only describe as slimy. “And what are you trying to hide under those hoods of yours? Pretty faces I hope.”
“I am Sergeant Ashill” Yuromi announced in her most commanding voice. She removed her hood, trying to be the diplomat. “What are your names and guild ranks?”
“Ah, so you are.” the slimy man said, eyeing her like a piece of meat. “Look at that scar” he added, gesturing to the other soldier. “And who is this with you, Sergeant?”
Kuta tried to shrink into her cloak, her face still hooded. Yuromi spoke, putting her hand over Kuta’s shoulder. “This is my cousin” Yuromi lied. “We’re headed to my uncle’s.” She gestured across the street to the building ahead.
“Oh, is that so?” the soldier leaning on the post said. He had light brown hair that was straight to his ears and then wavy down to his chin. He had a handsome face, but something in his eyes gave Yuromi a bad feeling. “You see, there’s been a lot of contraband entering this neighbourhood recently,” the man said, his smirk unabashed, “We’ll need to search you to make sure you’re not smuggling anything in.”
“I am a member of the guild” Yuromi countered, astounded. “You’ll do no such thing.”
“Even guild members can be prone to naughty behaviour.”
Yuromi’s skin crawled. “You admit that you know who I am,” Yuromi said, “and yet you speak with such brazen disrespect? I could have you stripped of rank and kicked out of the guild!”
“My word!” the slimy man said, still approaching. He stepped in close enough to make both girls uncomfortable and they retreated backwards towards the alleyway. “Is that so? You going to say something like, ‘do you know who my mummy is?’” he mocked. “Ashill isn’t Patzau anymore. You’ve lost your special privileges. No more free rides to the top for you, Sergeant.” The two men giggled at her rank, as if it were funny. Yuromi soon found out why.
“That’s right,” the wavy-haired man agreed, “there’s a rumour going around that you quit being a soldier like. Something about being all wishy washy about cleaning up the Mudtown scum. And if you’re not a soldier no more, then impersonating one is a serious offence, if I’m not mistaken.”
“I think you’re right about that!” the other man agreed, taunting. Kuta recoiled away, stepping behind Yuromi. The two men continued forward, hemming them in.
Yuromi frowned. “What do you mean Ashill’s not Patzau anymore?”
“Oh, my. Now isn’t that sweet!?” the slimy man said with a grin. He licked his lips. “Didn’t you hear? Patzau Ashill was removed by the council. They’ve got Burm as the new Patzau. Things are changing.”
“I don’t believe you” Yuromi said, taking a defensive stance. They now stood in the mouth of the alleyway, boxed in.
The wavy-haired man snatched his hand forward and pulled away Kuta’s hood to reveal the face within. Both men seemed surprised as Kuta’s long dark hair and features were revealed and three things became apparent to them in that instant. First, the unhooded girl bore zero resemblance to Yuromi, her alleged cousin. Second, the girl revealed wasn’t city Casoyan, but a girl of the mountain tribes. Finally, that Yuromi had lied to them. Their faces soured. The perverse pleasure they were getting out of the exchange evaporated and they reached for their weapons.
The moment Kuta was fearing had arrived. She closed her eyes and focused her agindan on the spirits drawn to the purity of her metal pins. They were always nearby, following. She spread her consciousness out, drawing them in and selecting the appropriate channel for her power. Harm, not kill. Something to escape. Something to protect us. She found the right spirit in mere heartbeats. She channeled; blinking open her eyes.
The slimy man was already out cold on the cobbles. Yuromi’s fist had connected with his chin and he lay sprawled in the dirt at her feet. The wavy-haired man recoiled at the speed of her blow. He drew on his blade but Kuta was faster. She channeled and expanded the bronze of his weapon outwards, piercing the leather sheath like teeth on a sawblade. Don’t kill, she reminded herself. He pulled, but the blade wouldn’t draw.
Yuromi was on him before he could resist. She slipped past his guard and had her arm around his neck, locking him in a chokehold. He was bigger than her, but she was a fighter. Realizing he couldn’t extradite himself, the man toppled backwards taking Yuromi down with him. They fell to the ground together, the blow knocking the breath from Yuromi’s lungs, but it wasn’t enough. Yuromi refused to release her squeeze on his throat. She held him until he went limp, and then several long seconds after.
Kuta watched, impressed and scared. She wasn’t sure what she would have done alone. Killing them would have been so much easier. That was what terrified her most. “Let’s get out of here” Kuta urged.
Yuromi pulled herself to her feet. “Not yet” Yuromi said, pulling a knife from the slimy man’s belt. She looked around. The odd face had watched the exchange, but none seemed keen on intervening. They averted their eyes at her gaze. “I’m going to take a finger from each of them!” she huffed, anger rolling across her face.
“No” Kuta said.
“This will be the last time these bastards can harass anyone” Yuromi prattled, ignoring Kuta’s dissent. “I’ll cut off their thumbs… cut a branding into their fucking foreheads.”
“No,” Kuta urged, raising her voice. Yuromi turned in surprise. “We need to go. Now!”
“It’ll just take a second” Yuromi whined.
“No!” Kuta ordered. “You’re not thinking. What if more soldiers come? What if somebody reports you. What if they wake up? We leave, now, while we still can.”
Yuromi twirled the small dagger in her hands. She yearned to hurt them. It would be so easy; a lesson to remind them for the rest of their miserable lives. And also, a death wish. They know who I am. I should go further! Ruin their worthless lives like they would have done to mine. But she didn’t. Behind the anger, she knew she couldn’t go through with it. Who was she to distribute vigilante justice? How would this make her any different than them… or any better than a man like Burm?
“Fine. Let’s get to your apartment” she huffed, slipping the soldier’s dagger into her sleeve.
“No longer an option” Kuta said. “You just told them where we were going!”
“No, I didn’t” Yuromi argued. She looked across the street. Thankfully, it was basically empty but the longer they stayed over the two unconscious men, the worse things looked.
“You did” Kuta insisted. “You gestured to your ‘uncle’s apartment.’” Yuromi’s face twisted, realizing she had in fact done that. Kuta pulled on Yuromi’s arm and led her back into the alleyway. “We need to hide elsewhere.”
Yuromi scratched at her scar. Where else in this city where we be alone, with nobody around to bother us? The solution was obvious. “Alright. Follow me. I know a place,” Yuromi said. “Somewhere nobody will be.” She pulled Kuta away from the unconscious soldiers and back towards the city center.
Kuta paused to take in the opulence of the gateway while Yuromi casually pushed her way through a metal door Kuta hadn’t even noticed. A pair of finely sculpted tree trunks formed the supporting columns of the arched gateway. Their branches reached over the arch and tangled together to form several old symbols Kuta was unfamiliar with. The trees and the symbols looked ancient and weathered, older than most of the surrounding tenements. The metal gate was wide enough for a pair of palanquins and through their oxidized bars Kuta could make out a large stone mansion looming in the distance. Yuromi used a weathered key to lock the smaller door behind them and led Kuta through rows of ancient looking trees and unattended gardens towards the lonely structure.
“What is this place?” Kuta asked. She paused, looking around. She had never noticed the old gateway before and the wider grounds were obstructed by other buildings between the gardens and the street. She never before seen the lonely mansion. She hadn’t known it existed.
“This is the Ashill estate” Yuromi said matter-of-factly.
“You live here?” Kuta blurted. Kuta figured she could fit her entire apartment more than a thousand times in the gardens alone.
“I guess so” Yuromi said, waiting for Kuta to catch up.
Kuta understood on some level that there were mansions in the lusher garden districts in the heart of the city. Patzau Palace, the auction house, and walls along the canals hinted at their private existence. Private soldiers and guards stood erect at their entrances, a visual recommendation to move along. Kuta had even been once to Patzau Minoc’s estate, where he and Mira lived in what she could only have described as fantastical opulence. The size and scale of Minoc’s mansion paled in comparison to the Ashill estate. The privacy, size, and secrecy expressed a degree of wealth and power that Kuta had difficulty imagining. It was old and powerful, like the trees above the gateway. It seemed impossible that a single family lived in this great empty space.
Inside, the mansion was eerily silent. A fact made all the clearer by the high vaulted ceilings in each room that made an echo out of every small sound. Kuta had expected a bustle of servants or soldiers, like she had seen at Minoc’s. Instead, they were conspicuously absent.
“The servants are gone” Yuromi said, her voice an echo. Kuta wasn’t sure if that was a statement of normality or abnormality. Yuromi led her into a sitting room and asked, “Can I get you anything to eat?”
Kuta nodded and settled into a plush chair while Yuromi disappeared. She looked around the room in awe. There were tapestries and statues. On walls and shelves were items Kuta couldn’t even begin to recognize. Yuromi returned with a basket of foreign looking fruit and cups with water. She used the soldier’s stolen dagger to skillfully skin and slice several, handing each piece to Kuta as if these were regular foods Kuta would have been able to find outside in the markets. She wondered what these strange fruits were and how much they cost. She wondered who had picked them and under what tense. She wondered if her uncle had picked any before.
“The rumor the soldiers mentioned,” Kuta ventured, her voice barely above a murmur. “About you leaving the Guild. Is it true?” Yuromi took another bite of fruit, then nodded. Kuta leaned forward slightly. “Why?”
Yuromi sighed softly and pushed her hair back. “I hit my limit. The guild is all I’ve known. It’s woven into my family’s fabric—a part of me and my sister since the day we were born. And I still want to be there. I feel empty without it. I want to protect people, to stand by my squad. It hurts to feel like I’ve abandoned them. But I won’t walk that path. Not when the guild’s priorities have diverged so far from my own. I’m ashamed of what the guild has become.”
Kuta ate, letting silence ask more than words. The conflict played across Yuromi’s face.
“I just wanted to help people” Yuromi confessed. “I wanted to make a difference.”
Kuta asked, “When did things change?”
“I don’t know…” Yuromi lied. “We went from trying to rid the slums of crime to trying to rid the city of the slums and, along the way, it stopped being about helping people at all.”
“So why quit?” Kuta asked. “Wouldn’t it be better to lead by example? You’re the Patzau’s daughter. Your actions and your decisions hold influence. Show people what the right way is.”
“It doesn’t work that way” Yuromi argued, twirling the knife in her hands anxiously. “Kida’s always been the respected one and she’s even more hardcore than mum is. I’m not cut out to the lead anyone or anything. All I do is fuck things up.”
“You were a squad sergeant” Kida said quizzically. “You led a patrol squad.”
“That’s different. Supervising a handful of misfits with sharp sticks is nothing like real leadership. I’m not cut out of the real stuff” she added. “I’ll just make things worse.” The knife twirled out of her fingers and clattered across the floor. “Besides,” Yuromi continued, “I’ve lost my faith in the guild. The reverence I held for it as a little girl is gone.”
“Sometimes, leadership is giving others direction; where to point their efforts, not doing the work yourself. What makes you think you would make things worse?” Kuta asked.
“Because I always do” Yuromi said. She picked up the knife and began to twirl it again.
“Give me an example.”
“Just before the assassination of Prince Ohacha’s uncle, I was in Mudtown with my squad and we stopped at a restaurant for food and water. Inside, I overheard some gangsters extorting the restaurant owner for money. She didn’t have any and so the gangsters were threatening them. I acted impulsively without thinking and intervened. It cost one of my soldiers their lives.”
“That doesn’t sound like your fault” Kuta said.
“I thought I was doing the right thing,” Yuromi said through shallow breaths. “I thought I was helping. But I’m a fool. I heard that the gangs burned that restaurant to the ground the next night. They lynched the old man and hung him up with a sign that read ‘Traitor.’”
“Again, you didn’t do that. That’s not your fault. You were trying to help.”
“Then what if I told you that the guild has known where most of the gang leaders live for the past eight months. That they could have acted long ago and chose not to. That the gangsters who attacked Patzau Yohati were included on that list and this all could have been avoided. And more, I had that information. Every time I took my squad into Mudtown, I could have ‘accidentally’ stumbled in and done some good. But I didn’t. I chose to stay in line and follow orders and its cost us so many innocent lives.”
“That’s–”
“Exactly!” Yuromi huffed. “I break the rules and make things worse. I follow the rules and I make things worse. No matter what I do, the choices I make are the wrong ones. I left the auction house to chase a thief and the only thing I managed to accomplish was imprisoning an innocent girl inside a death-camp because I didn’t know what else to do with her in the moment. She sat as a witness, starved and neglected, for the bloodiest week in Casoyan history because of my foolish mistake. Now when I see her, it in her eyes. She loathes me for it and I don’t even blame her.”
“You’re right” Kuta said flatly, “You are being foolish. Foolish for thinking it’s fair to blame yourself for everything that’s happened or not happened. Even more so for happenings outside your control.”
“But had I not–”
“Blaming yourself takes away the responsibility of others” Kuta said, her eyes empathetic. “Other people have agency. You alone did not lead us here. Those gang members, Yohati, your mother, the council, each individual soldier and citizen. Everyone makes their own choices, acts for their own reasons, and reacts according to their own beliefs.”
“But I was the catalyst” Yuromi insisted. She wanted to cry.
“You think too highly of yourself” Kuta said. “That’s like watching the sun set and claiming it was your fault that night came; because you didn’t stop it. You didn’t do this. No one person did this. And by thinking you did, you disregard the countless choices that led us here. Choices made by more important and more influential people than you. We are here because of hundreds of years of history and trade, war and spoliation. There are infinite past moments where one could look back and find fault, but finding them changes nothing. They don’t matter. Not unless the aim is understanding how best to move forward.”
Yuromi had set down the knife and was wiping tears from her eyes. Then ran down her long scar like water through a gulley. “You’re really smart” Yuromi sniffed. “How do you know so much about everything?”
“I’ve had good teachers” Kuta admitted. “Minoc was only the latest.”
“Do you think he did it?” Yuromi ventured.
“I know he didn’t” Kuta answered.
“Still,” Yuromi continued, “what a fall from grace. Minoc went from Patzau to social pariah in weeks. By the end, nobody amongst the city’s elites trusted him.”
“They feared him” Kuta said. “It’s impossible to trust a person you fear, even if the fears are unfounded. They feared that he knew their secrets. They feared he would use them. They feared him because they knew that in his place, they would have used them. But Minoc wasn’t that type of man; he was better than that.”
“My mother always said he had a venomous tongue.”
“That’s ironic,” Kuta said, “those are Yohati’s words.” She fought off an inner agitation. “I’ll be the first to admit that Minoc had a way with words. He could flip your opinions to his own, then leave you feeling like you’d been outsmarted by agreeing with him.” She paused, thinking about her mentor and where he might be now. Deep in some cold cell, she presumed. “He was very convincing” she said at last. “Sometimes, I think back and wonder if he tricked me into joining the Artisan’s Guild; if we were ever truly aligned or he just managed to convince me we were.”
“I never really knew him” Yuromi admitted. “I sort of just… trusted the rumours.”
Kuta sighed. “Never trust rumours. The person spreading them always wants something. And I wish you did get a chance to know him. I wish more people knew him the way I did. They’d understand that he was a decent man, once you got past his eccentricities. He’s a far better man than most of the upper guildsmen in Caso. A far better man than this city deserved.”
Yuromi frowned at that. She wasn’t Kuta had meant the comment as an insult but her words still evoked disapproval. A thought struck Yuromi’s and she asked hastily, “What happened to Patzau Bradel?” Kuta stopped chewing. When she didn’t answer right away, Yuromi continued her thought aloud, “Surely you know something? I imagine his death was rife with rumours and speculations, especially if he was murdered.”
“Bradel was a pathetic bastard” Kuta said. “I haven’t heard anything other than speculation to suggest he was murdered. No poisons in him. No obvious wounds or injuries. No signs of illness. Seems he just… died.” She sipped at her cup of water.
“You didn’t like him?” Yuromi asked. It was more a statement than a question.
“No,” Kuta admitted, “I didn’t like Bradel. But either of the other two will serve well. They’re not very charismatic, but neither are they problematic. They’re status quo.”
“Is that what the guild needs? Status quo?” Yuromi asked.
“No,” Kuta answered, “but it’s better than regression, even if it is a bit uninspiring.”
A shattering crash sounded outside and both women startled. An angry shout Yuromi to her feet and into the library next door. Kuta followed anxiously at her heels. The library was large with high vaulted ceilings. A lavish indoor balcony looked down upon the old and well-preserved mosaic floor. The motif was of a tree atop a hill, enclosed by native birds and animals. Around the room towered ornate shelves of polished wood. Dozens of books, rare with their thick leather bindings and real parchment were displayed across shelves. Other novelties filled the empty spaces. Kuta spotted a crocodile skull, gilded nautilus shells carved with motifs, and foreign looking war masks, shields, and daggers. A big sword hung on the wall, its pommel emblazoned with the largest gemstone Kuta had ever seen. The grandeur of the room was almost enough to distract from the figure slumped against a wall. A shattered bottle of wine bloomed around her feet, running along the cracks like a geometric web. Amber glass was strewn about the mosaic. The smell was strong and sweet.
“Mother?” Yuromi asked, worried and angry and confused all at once.
Yanata Ashill had her eyes closed. They opened sluggishly as Yuromi approached. She stepped carefully around the shattered glass. “Come to yell at me again?” Yanata slurred, lifting the broken bottle by the neck and pointing it outwards in accusation.
“What?” The word came more as a breath. “Mom it’s me, Yuromi. Have you been drinking?” She asked, her tone laden with disapproval.
“Yuromi?” Yanata repeated with surprise. Her eyes widened. She waved the bottle neck aimlessly. “Drinking” she repeated. “Yes. I am drinking. I thought you were…” the rest of her sentence slurred unintelligibly. There was dejection in her voice.
Kuta watched as Yanata glanced up at the balcony every so often. “Help me get her up” Yuromi pleaded to Kuta. “And watch your step.” The two women pulled Yanata to her feet. She was heavy. They half-carried-half-dragged the old Patzau to the closest chair, avoiding the broken glass. Wine had stained her clothes.
“I am sorry” Patzau Ashill said, as Yuromi heaved her down. Her limbs slumped awkwardly and Kuta helped sit her up straight. “I am so sorry” she repeated, looking now at Kuta. “I’ve been… uh, terrible.” Yanata slurred.
“I thought you quit drinking!” Yuromi accused. She was on the verge of tears herself. Angry ones. “You assured me” she seethed.
“I haven’t… had any in years” Yanata said defensively. “Just… today and…”
“Don’t you dare!” Yuromi seethed, her words angry with disappointment. “Not after dad! Not after our deal! You promised to stop if I got my shit together. You promised!”
Yanata sighed, thinking slowly. “I broke my promise… for Minoc. He… he needed it. We drank, and then I… let him go.”
“You what?” both women said in unison.
“When the bastards cut me from the council and replaced me with Burm,” She stuck her tongue out in derision at the captain’s name, “I decided I deserved another drink. One for me. I took this bottle–”
“Not that,” Yuromi said, interrupting. “The part about Patzau Minoc.”
“Oh, I let Mellen go. I freed him.” Yanata said, a wide smile spreading across her face. “One last ‘fuck you’ to the council. Treacherous jackals.”
“You freed Patzau Minoc?” Kuta repeated, her eyes lighting up. “Where is he now?”
“I don’t know” Yanata said, trying to sit up and having difficulties. “On a boat. Sailing away. Have you seen aunty Elvi?” Yanata asked, changing the subject. “She hasn’t come to visit.”
Yuromi wasn’t sure whether to be anxious or impressed. “You freed Minoc from prison?”
“Of course!” Yanata said with pride. “He was an arrogant pompous self-important twat… but he wasn’t a traitor. Minoc being free, somewhere out there, will haunt Yohati till the day he dies.” She beamed at that thought. “Best thing I’ve done for this city in years.”
“Do they know you did it?” Kuta asked, concern spreading across her face.
“No, but they’ll figure out it was me” she said dismissively. “I wasn’t careful. Or maybe they blame me for it anyway. Yes, they will do that. You shouldn’t be here when they come,” she added. “I plan on denying it, but…” She started to laugh as what she had said was a joke.
“I can’t believe you would do something so unwise” Yuromi said. She was hurting inside. “Why sacrifice yourself for him! He wouldn’t have done the same for you.”
“Why not run?” Kuta urged.
“I think Minoc would have, actually. And run?” Yanata said with a snort. “I don’t think so. You two should run though. Especially you, Kuta. The council despises you. They blame you for Minoc. They think you corrupted Minoc; used your Aginjigaade powers or your woman’s parts to bend him to treachery.” She smiled a sad smile. “It’s all bullshit” Yanata continued, reaching for Kuta’s face. “You’re just a girl. Its not fair. So young and innocent. I doubt you could hurt anyone.” Kuta looked away, trying to hide her shame.
Yanata was too drunk to notice. She looked back to her daughter. “They’ll come for me soon. They’ll want a public execution. I won’t let that happen. But I need you and your sister to leave Caso before then.” She hesitated, her words catching. “I’ve been a lousy mother. You girls deserved better. I didn’t handle your father’s death well. I chose anger and self-pity. I retreated.”
“Stop!” Yuromi pleaded. “Stop apologizing like you’re dying. Leave with us!”
“Then you and Kida grew up and I stopped paying attention” Yanata continued. “I fell into my role and…” she trailed off. “I was a coward. I stopped fighting for what was right and I stopped prioritizing you two—my own girls. I was too busy playing politics… and look where that got us.” She was crying now. And Yuromi was sobbing too, kneeling before her mother. “I just wanted you to know that I’m sorry. That I’ll die with those regrets.”
“No! Don’t say that” Yuromi pleaded. “You can leave. Come with us! You don’t get to just die and pretend that will fix anything!” she yelled.
Yanata laughed. It was a challenge. “I’m no pushover like Minoc. I might be an old woman, but I’m a fighter. A warrior! Just like you. Just like your grandparents. I’m not looking to die, Romi. I’m looking for a fight. And I intend to win it. But you and I both know that you can lose a fight you intend to win.” She traced Yuromi’s scar with a gentle thumb.
“This is madness! You’re just drunk!”
“Aye, perhaps I am a bit mad” Yanata conceded. “I hoped on sending Elvi with you two. But I can’t find her. And you are smart enough girls to manage without her.”
“No!” Yuromi cried. Tears ran down her face. “I’m not leaving you to fight this alone.”
Yanata raised her hand and slapped Yuromi across her tear streamed face. The slap was hard, and Kuta recoiled at the savagery of the unexpected blow. Yuromi fell backwards, stunned. Then Yanata leaned forward and kissed the top of Yuromi’s head. She brought her daughter in close, holding her like the most precious thing in the world. “That’s an order, soldier.”
“That fucking hurt!” Yuromi shrieked.
“Good!” Yanata spat back. Yuromi squirmed but her mother’s muscular arms held her in place. “I hope I knocked some sense into your thick skull. Now go get what you need.”
And to Kuta’s surprise, Yuromi followed the order, leaving in a huff. Kuta remained behind with the Patzau. “You’re going to fight them drunk?” Kuta asked. Part of her knew not to underestimate the former Patzau, but she couldn’t help but worry for the older woman.
“Not a chance” Yanata said. “I’ll be sober tomorrow when they come for me. You two need to be long gone by then. Promise me, Kuta. Get yourselves out of Caso tonight. Tomorrow morning at the very latest.”
“You also know then” Kuta said softly. She met Yanata’s gaze.
Yanata’s eyes perked up, suddenly guileful. “Look at that. Just as crafty as Minoc” she said with a tilt of a smile. “I should have guessed that you would know what’s coming. He chose well with you. Have you heard how they plan to do it?”
“No” Kuta admitted, “Only the whispers that they’ll try tomorrow. Personally, I don’t think they’ll make it past the city’s walls.”
“Nor do I” Yanata said. “But underestimating people has always been the Casoyan way. And it’s not my problem anymore. Let the fool in charge handle it. I’ve got my own fight ahead.”
“You could warn people” Kuta said. “People will die if they get past the walls.”
“As could you” Yanata countered. “Its not too late for either of us to make that decision.”
Kuta found no response to that. She felt guilt for not feeling guilty.
After Yuromi and Kida slipped away into the night, Yanata sat alone in the dark library. She had long since dismissed the plethora of servants that once filled the grand estate. Now the house remained dark and empty; as hollow as she felt. A new bottle served as her only companion. Her last bottle. It was one pulled deep from within the cellars. It was the only bottle priceless enough to keep despite her promise to Yuromi all those years ago. She peeled away the wax from the top and took a swig from the clear wine within. It wasn’t very good. But it had been a gift, and that made it the best company on this loneliest of nights.
A detached voice spoke from the darkness, “What do you think you’re doing?” It was even and emotionless. Yanata lowered the bottle and squinted. A figure emerged, its face in shadow.
“Kida?” Yanata asked, leaning forward. “Is that you?”
“I asked you a question, mother” Kida said, stepping forward. “I see that you’ve taken up drinking again” she added with condescension. “Any other betrayals you’d like to admit to?”
Yanata looked up and even through the fog in her vision, she could see the disgust written across her daughter’s face. “How long have you been home?”
“Long enough,” Kida replied.
“Long enough,” Yanata repeated. “So, that was you on the balcony. How much did you overhear?”
“Enough.”
“Well, what are you going to do about it?” Yanata goaded. “Come to tell me off again? Or maybe you wanted to gloat a little before you ran off to tattle to Burm or Yohati? I’m sure they’ll give you a fine reward for your blind devotion.”
“I just don’t understand what happened to you” Kida said. She stood eerily still. “You were our Patzau. Our general. Head of this family. Now look at you. You’ve destroyed yourself. You’ve destroyed your legacy. You’ve ruined this family and our noble lineage. And for what?”
“To save a life” Yanata said. “I can live with that.”
“But I am the one who has to live with it!” Kida shouted. “I will be the one left picking up the pieces! You destroy not only yourself. And with you crumbles everything. You’ve betrayed me just as much as you have this city. It is my future you have tarnished alongside yours!”
“It’s always about you!” Yanata spat. “I spoiled you too much. Put you on a pedestal when your sister was misbehaving and it went to your damned head. You can’t even see how rotten the elitist snobs you call friends are. They care about you only as far as they can use you. They’re leeches! You’re twice as smart as your sister and even she figured that much out.”
“There it is” Kida said, her voice trembling, “It’s always about me versus Yuromi. All our lives you’d pit us against each other. Compare us. But you always favoured her. She comes to you and you apologize like she never did anything wrong. I was the one here for you all those years while she sulked and fucked off. But when I come, you berate me like I’m still a child.”
“Then don’t act like a fucking child!” Yanata growled. “Until the other night atop the fortress, I hadn’t worried once about you. You were strong, assured, and charismatic… like your father. But your sister, she was like me and that scared me the most. She was impulsive, quick to anger, and long to forgive.”
“What does that have to do with anything?”
“I retreated from both of you. It was wrong. I was supposed to be your mother! It was a coward’s choice. I should have been there for you both. But unlike Yuromi, I let you be because I had faith in your ability to succeed. You were clever and driven. That like your father, you would do good. That night, you made me realize that I mistook your assuredness with virtue. Instead of fears I anticipated, you became something worse than I ever fathomed: heartless and self-centered. All you care about is legacy, status, and wealth. You don’t give a shit about anyone else. All the people you hurt along the way. You don’t care about the people you swore to serve as a soldier.”
“You’re so fucking arrogant!” Kida roared back, rage plain across her face. “You don’t know a damned thing about me anymore. So don’t try to blame me for your own failings. You ruined yourself and now you have to sit and face judgement for your mistakes. For years, you’ve let your problems eat away at your cliffs like a rising tide, crumbling the earth at your feet. Now, in your arrogant righteousness, you see toppling the tower as the solution when you could just shore up the walls. I assumed you were oblivious, but it’s worse than I feared. You’re willfully ignorant of the damage you’ve done. You can’t even acknowledge the laws you’ve broken, the rules you’ve bent because you think yourself above them!”
Yanata threw her bottle of wine across the room at Kida. It sailed over Kida’s head as she ducked, crashing loudly against the mosaic floor. Her voice was full of gravelly bitterness as she said, “You know nothing of the laws being bent in this tainted city. Your idols are its greatest offenders; thieves and backstabbers. I’ll not sit here and heed the naïve judgements of a brat who’s been handed everything in life.” Yanata leaned back in her chair, tears streaming down her cheeks, anger collapsing into disgust. “I was a terrible mother, Kida, but you’ve become a terrible person. One that’s not welcome here any longer. Pack your things. Get the hell out!”
Yanata slowly wiped the tears from her eyes. She sat, devastated by the truth of her own words. My own daughter. She didn’t see when Kida dove forward. Yanata was forcibly driven back into her chair, the air expelled from her lungs. The suddenness of the attack, and the shock of it didn’t register. And when she gazed up through watery eyes, Kida loomed over her. Her knife plunged deep into Yanata’s chest.
Yanata tried to reel against her daughter but her reflexes felt slow. Her arms were already so heavy. Too heavy. Perhaps, she knew it was too late. Perhaps it was an unwillingness to fight back. Yanata sat and stared up at her daughter as the fight drained out of her. Yanata pictured a castle toppling over a cliff. “My girl,”she croaked. Those were her last words.
Kida cried over her mother’s body. Tears ran down her cheeks. She held her close as Yanata Ashill died in her arms. Kida spoke through the tears, her voice barely a broken whisper. “I’m so sorry, mother” she murmured, her voice trembling. Her heart though, it was resolved. “This was the only way. The only way to fix everything. I loved you.”
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