“Here’s one that looks important,” Antones says from his side of the room, behind his desk. He lifts a letter, and I get up to grab it, since it takes more effort for him to get off his ass these days.
I look at the jumble of words on the page, eyebrows screwing up. “Do you have the cipher?” I curl my fingers impatiently toward him.
“Erm . . .” He shuffles pages around, rustling them across his desk, and comes up with a worn copy of our code reader, handing it to me. “Here we are.”
It takes me nearly an hour to replace the unreadable letters with the correct ones, but eventually I have it, and the message makes me hum and nod, contented.
“Sounds like good news,” Antones says.
“It’s from Zefyra. She’s out in the eastern flank with Aramastun’s army. She says the rebellion is growing strongly over there, in secrecy. Helget’s and Tymon’s soldiers have begun meetings.” I let out a chuckle, scooting to the bottom of the page,and shake my head. “She says vampires and humans have begun to mate, out there in the woods away from civilization. Where they can’t be judged. This isn’t new, as we know—humans and vampires mating—”
“It’s how Master Lukain was made, and so many other dhampir—”
“—but the interesting part is the couples seem to be escaping into the night out of honest attraction and attachment, rather than through forced broodstock-thrall tendencies, as Zef puts it.”
Antones puts down the page he’s looking at and tilts his head at me, focusing wholly on my discovery. He leans back in his chair with a mischievous little smile that reminds me of the Ant of old. “Sounds like things are going swimmingly, then.”
“Better than that, Ant.” My voice is excited. I flap the letter in the air. “Don’t you see? It means the Silverblood is working! If vampires and humans are fucking, and in such a free way that’s removed from shadowgalas and the awful broodstock and sex-slaving operations, then perhaps itispossible to create a new society for the two cities.”
“You sound surprised to find it’s possible,” Ant points out. “When hasn’t that been your goal the entire time?”
I throw my arms up, forcing out a laugh that’s bordering on hysterical. “Well, yes, sure, that was the goal. But I didn’t think it would actuallywork!”
Chapter 42
Sephania
I’m standing at the north end of the eating hall a few days later, staring out at everything and nothing. I’m particularly anxious today, because I feel like everyone is waiting formeto make a decision on when we’re going to act.
Our plan has been going “swimmingly,” as Antones put it. Silverblood is in circulation. Dhampir are being pumped into wombs thanks to said Silverblood. Countless letters tell us of the changing affections between vampires and humans, with hardly any bloodshed. There’s a great transition going on in Nuhav and Olhav, and it can’t be denied.
I imagine Aramastun Wyvox is privy to this change, and that he’s also waiting for the right time to strike the peons working against him. It’s partly what makes my nerves so frayed, wondering when that nobleblood bastard is going to drop the other boot.
In front of me, the eating hall is packed. Hundreds of rebels sit shoulder to shoulder among the numerous benches, which have been rebuilt, fortified, and rearranged since Lukain and Skar’s heated duel blew this chamber apart.
These days, it’s hard to tell who’s a Chained Sister, who’s a Grimson, and who is completely unaffiliated. Everyone commingles. Laughter and conversation fill the hall, food laid out in broad platters, mead and watered-down ale aplenty, sloshing over the rims of mugs, dirtying the ground.
“Not a bad thing we’ve done, eh?” says a voice behind me.
I smile as Antones limps up to me, his cane clacking. “Look how far we’ve come, Ant.”
“Quite good, as your nobleblood mate would say,” he answers with a chuckle. “Seems my foolhardy pacifist enclave might one day become a reality after all.”
“And half of these boys and girls are training with the sword every day, to protect the ones who don’t. Vall, Skar, and Lukain are making sure of it, heading the tutoring. They’re hard-asses, but efficient ones.”
In terms of the peaks and valleys the Firehold has faced over the years, with Old Endolf’s death, Jinneth’s capture, and Alacine Mortis’ attack being a low point, this certainly feels like a high-water mark.
Antones and I have become self-appointed secretaries of Nuhav, sifting through paperwork and liaising with the many guilds and gangs inhabiting the city, to make sure everyone works together and things remain civil. There are of course transgressions, complaints, and pockets of disputes, because any societal transformation has its share of bumps in the road. But they largely remain solitary and confined, not spreading or bringing the city to near-daily riots and hangings like they used to.
The Bronzes and Silverknights signaling a truce has certainly helped things remain orderly. Vanison’s vaunted escape at the eleventh hour put a twist on the truce, yet it was handled easily enough. Once it became clear the populace didn’t much care to single out a bit player in the silver trade, when his execution was framed with hypocrisy due to the Silverknights doing the same thing he was accused of doing, the issue swiftly died a silent death. The truce remains.
Ant and I revel in quiet camaraderie at the eating hall full of people. A wrestling match breaks out somewhere, drawing an audience. It’s quickly settled.
“Some things never change,” I chuckle, shaking my head.
With a nod, Antones relaxes against the nearest wall, leaning, hanging his cane precariously at the end of his fingertips. “You mentioned three of your men teaching the younglings how to swing a sword. What of your fourth mate, the bald one?”
“He’s been on the Floorboards helping to network with the guilds and gangs. After witnessing Vanison’s escape in the town square, he felt he needed to play a more direct role in simmering nerves.”