Sins of the Father Part Two: Chapter Thirteen (Patreon)

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Chapter Thirteen

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A sense of disquiet settled over Airn as they made their way across the city. The already busy crowds gradually swelled as they approached the heart of the city. But Airn’s mind was elsewhere. Whatever the Aran’alians were up too, it worried her. And what had he meant about agitators? Were they worried that angry Illandrans were going to attack the festival? Or even go after urd’thin? Maybe Death in the Night’s operatives had just stolen a few Illandran uniforms to try and keep an eye out for Illandran vigilantes, and warn sympathetic travelers to their district. Somehow, Airn doubted it was that simple. Or that kindhearted. And what was the red-haired man doing? Was he Death in the Night too? He could be a local sympathizer, or a mercenary, or just someone they bribed to show them around. The truth was, there were a million possibilities, and very few of them boded well.

“You okay?” Deg gently tugged Airn into a quiet alcove. “You’ve been awfully quiet since we saw those guards.” Deg grunted, flicking an ear. “Or, Not Guards, I guess.”

“I’m fine, Deg.” Airn patted his hand, smiling. “But thank you.”

“You sure?” Deg tilted his head. “You haven’t even been warning me about watching out for the real guards. Or about getting trampled by a horse. Or about robbers. Or about-”

“Yes, Deg, I get it,” Airn said, chuckling. “It’s just…” She grimaced, her tail twitching. “Whatever they were up to, it’s making me nervous. I doubt it’s anything good.”

Deg shrugged, adjusting his cloth satchel. “Yeah, so? Whatever it is, it’s Illandra’s problem.”

Airn glared at him, her ears splayed. “In case you’ve already forgotten, we live in Illandra.”

“You know what-”

“And before you tell me that I know what you meant, yes I do.” Airn jabbed him on the shoulder. “But as you yourself pointed out earlier, they also appeared to be inspecting the area around a Warren entrance. Which is never good, no matter who’s doing it.”

Deg’s ears drooped a little. “Yeah, that’s true. But, they did warn us too, right? Maybe they’re just trying to keep an eye on places urd’thin frequent, to try and protect us from those agitators.”

Airn considered it, eventually shrugging. “It’s possible. Yet I’d find that exceedingly hard to believe.”

Deg scratched at the base a horn. “Me too, honestly. The aran’alians have been nice to us, but stealing uniforms and risking their own safety to protect Warren entrances would be a pretty big stretch.” He reached out and gently rubbed Airn’s arm. “Look, sis. We ain’t got no way to know what they’re doing, so there ain’t no point in worrying about it for the moment. Right? Ain’t we supposed to be going to a festival?”

Airn sighed, her tail idly swishing. “Yes.”

“And.” Deg squeezed her shoulder. “Ain’t you supposed to be protecting me from the dangers of…” He gestured at the tide of people flowing up and down the streets like the currents of the sea, constantly at war with one another. “All that?”

Airn managed to smile. Obvious as it was, she appreciated her brother’s efforts to refocus her mind on something useful. “I should think you’d want to say you can keep yourself safe, but yes Deg.”

“Oh, I can.” Deg smirked, his dark brown ears perked. “But you need somethin’ to occupy your mind, and hold over my head. So… get to it! Let’s get to this damn festival.”

“Yes, dear brother.” Airn clicked her teeth. “Right away, Dear brother.” She snatched his ear, and gave it a little tug, making him yelp. “Do stay close, keep your eyes open and your ears swiveling. And don’t you even think about crossing any streets until I give you the all clear.”

“Ow!” Deg swatted her hand away, laughing. “Okay, maybe this wasn’t the best way to get your mind outta the darkness.”

“And now you’re stuck with it.” Airn grasped her pack’s straps, walking swiftly back into the crowd. “So do mind what I say while we’re in dangerous territory.”

Airn plunged back into the sea of humans, her mind newly focused on her task. It was her responsibility to keep both of them safe. Her eyes darted everywhere, her ears constantly swiveled. The scents of so many people were nearly overwhelming, from sour sweat and sweet perfumes, to freshly laundered clothes and oils and beards and hair. Airn studied everyone they passed, from the lowliest pauper to the fanciest, finery-draped noble. She paid especially close attention any time they passed by a city guardsman. As unnerving as the imposters had been, the real guards were far more likely to pose a real threat. While fine clothes and coin kept most city guards from needlessly harassing them, it was not the case for all of them. The greediest amongst the city officials were all the more likely to demand bribes from those few urd’thin genuinely capable of paying them.

Worse, while looking respectable might keep most of the police force off their backs, it had the opposite effect on those who fancied themselves urban highwaymen. A robber who snatched a noblewoman’s purse at knife point could expect swift pursuit by every armed Illandran solder in the city. But an urd’thin? It was all too well known that an urd’thin would never go to the city guards, not even to report a robbery.

Corrupt officials and muggings were not all urd’thin had to fear in the city’s streets, either. After all, the average urd’thin was only half the size of a human, at best. The rest of the entire city’s populace absolutely towered above them. Larger still were the horses and mules upon which they rode, along with the carriages and weapons such beasts often pulled. Any one of them could easily crush an urd’thin entirely by accident without even realizing they were there. For Airn’s people, traversing crowded lanes in the city was akin to pushing through a thick forest, in which all the trees were constantly moving and more than a few of them were actively hostile.

The disorienting walls of sound often made things even more treacherous. It was true the Warren markets possessed their own unique sort of din, with hundreds of voices bouncing off stone walls. But many other parts of the warrens were calmer, often quiet enough to hear the dripping of water and the chirping of insects. When the city streets were busy, however, the roiling cacophony was enough to drown out even the noisiest Warrens marketplace. An urd’thin’s large ears and sharp hearing were ill-suited for filtering out so many sounds all at once. It made it difficult to pinpoint potential sources of danger.

Once, in her youth, Airn was nearly trampled by a team of horses pulling some wealthy noblemen’s gilded carriage. She’d stayed out too late that night, and was only just trying to return to the Warrens when dawn broken. The city was very busy that morning, its lanes and streets a flowing tide of people, beasts, and conveyances. Airn was trying to cross the last major street between her and the nearest hidden entrance. Seeking to get her bearings, Airn tried to clamber up a flowering tree growing from an ornate stone planter, hoping to see over the heads of all the humans. But no sooner had she started climbing it than some angry city worker grabbed her by the scruff of her neck, and tossed to her roughly to the ground. Told her, the trees weren’t there for rats to climb.

Airn had staggered back to her feet, her heart hammering, terrified the man was going to call the guards on her. She slipped past him, and wove her way through the crowd, intent on sprinting across the street. Just as she neared it, she heard the tell-tale clopping of horse hooves, and the constant rattling clatter of carriage wheels against the cobblestone. But with so many voices and unfamiliar sounds swirling all around her, Airn could not pinpoint its location, nor determine if it was coming or going. Airn pushed on anyway, only to find herself just in front of a swiftly trotting team of horses. She shrieked and flung herself out of the way, a hoof missing her by inches. Iron-clad wheels rolled by just alongside her head. As she picked herself up on shaky legs, someone yelled for the ‘damn rat-dogs to stop impeding traffic’. Another human wondered aloud how often the poor workers had to scrape flattened vermin off the cobblestone.

These days, Airn was far more cautious. She was doubly careful whenever Deg was with her, as she had a sneaking suspicion her brother was anything but. As they made their way across the city, Airn kept him close for his own safety. She’d always been savvy when it came to surviving the city, but her youthful near-disaster taught her knowledge alone was not enough to ensure her survival. Overconfidence and panic could kill as surely as any guardsman’s blade. At least the experience of passing years made the crushing mass of sound easier to deal with. It was far easier for Airn to pick out specific voices, or hone in on sounds that might portend danger.

Unfortunately, that also made it far too easy for Airn to pick up all the insults hurled at them as they wound their way through the crowds. For the most part, Airn bore them as stoically as ever. After all, she’d heard them all before. There were only so many variations humans could come up with comparing urd’thin to rats, and vermin, only so many ways to work the word ‘rat-dog’ into a sentence. Even the tossed off remarks about infestations, or the sudden stench upon the streets lacked the sting of familiarity. Instead, they lingered in her belly, a dull, sorrowful ache that slowly grew into a desire to snap back. Or better yet, to sink her teeth or knife into those so filled with casual hatred, or cold cruelty. But, as always, Airn resisted the urge. She would never hesitate to defend herself, but to strike first was to invite far more trouble not only for herself, but for her brother, as well.

Airn maintained her vigilant focus all across the city. Though she knew Deg would have preferred to take the lead, she was glad to be free of his complaints. The bustle of busy streets and lanes filled with jostling humans meant it was slower going than she’d hoped for, but at least the midday sun allowed her to feel its warmth, whenever they weren’t in the shadow of some gargantuan, multi-leveled building.

As they traveled, Airn picked up snippets of conversation here and there. Between the recent escape of the city’s dragon, and the worrying construction taking place, the mood of the people was dour. Some openly wondered if it was the city’s Aran’alian population who had conspired to see the dragon set free. Others alleged it was an inside job, set free by a corrupt team of Wardens. After all, it was surely no coincidence that the beast escaped on the very night of the parade celebrating his imprisonment. Rumors also swirled as to how many men the dragon had slain during his escape.

Finally, they had just one more major street to cross before nearing their destination. When there was a break in traffic, Airn hurried across it with Deg right on her heels. No sooner were they pushing through the crowd on the far side than several armored guards on horseback trotted past, along with a passenger carriage going the opposite direction. A vender selling pickles and other snacks from a cart followed just behind the carriage.

Deg glanced over his shoulder, grunting. “You know, if I knew there was gonna be this much traffic, I’d have insisted we take the tunnels all the way there. This is taking us twice as long.”

Airn offered him a sheepish smile, her ears low and tail lower. “I can admit when I was wrong.” She slipped around the legs of an especially tall human, making for a nearby side street. “And today, I was wrong. But we’ll be there soon.”

Though the side street was lined with shops and eateries, the crowd was a little thinner that before. That allowed Airn to pick up her pace. She glanced behind herself to make sure Deg was keeping up, then forged on. They followed one side street to another, and another. Soon, the crowds gradually thinned out. The buildings that surrounded them grew progressively older, the streets in poorer shape. For an aging city at the heart of a far flung empire, Illandra usually did an admirable job of maintaining its infrastructure. The Aran’alian district, however, was one damning exception.

One of the older sections of the city, it earned its name because it had long been home to a sizable population of refugees from Illandra’s Twenty Fourth province. Though Illandra had conquered many other nations, none seemed to have quite so destructive effect on the local populace as their conquest of Aran’alia. The people of the silver rain were now a great diaspora, settling wherever they could. For many of them, that meant journeying to the heartland of their conqueror, in search of a better life.

Yet despite their culpability in the displacement of the Aran’alians, Illandra had done anything but embrace them. For generations, they were forced off into the margins, and the slums, and left to fend for themselves. They struggled to find housing, or food, or even the employment needed to pay for it. Over the years, some attempts had been made to assist them. Great housing complexes were built in tall rows stacked up like lines of firewood. Periodically, large scale employers sought to offer them jobs, albeit often involving hard labor and low wages. But for the most part, most of Illandra would have just as soon liked to forget they were even there. In a way, they shared that with the urd’thin. And so like the Warrens, the Aran’alian distrct was left to fend for itself.

And fend for itself, it had.

Airn had journeyed into the district enough times now to be prepared for the strange sense of inversion. On the outskirts, the sense of deterioration was everywhere. Trash littered the streets. Buildings were falling apart. Potholes filled the muddy roads. Several of its neighborhoods were among the most broken-down parts of the entire city. It stood to reason that further in, the district would be little more than a festering refuse pile of collapsed homes and murderous thieves. But the truth was quite the opposite. The deeper into the district she went, the better things looked again. The roads were patched, and the trash collected. The sagging buildings were shored up with freshly-constructed support beams. Colorful flags hung from tree limbs and lamp poles. Banners were strung up between buildings.

In a way, it was just like the Warrens. Both the Aran’alians and the urd’thin had taken matters into their own hands, after being mistreated and abandoned by the rest of the city. Each had built their own functioning sub-society to fulfill their needs, and take care of their own people. The Aran’alians had organized and built and repaired their own infrastructure. They policed their own streets, and kept own populace safe. But in another, very important way, the Aran’alian district was nothing like the warrens. After all, only one of them was secretly run by rebels, plotting a violent coup.

Not that the average Aran’alian had anything to do with that. At least, not knowingly. Airn rather doubted that Death in the Night had revealed their grand ambitions to the average citizen. Hell, most of them didn’t even know there was a rebel group that called themselves Death in the Night, let alone that their leaders were part of it. But Airn was not the average citizen. Not of Illandra, and not of the Warrens. Airn was well traveled, well read, and well spoken. She’d known for a long time that talk of rebellion brewed in dark corners of the city. Just as she knew that recently, that talk was blossoming into something far more dangerous.

Airn had pieced it together herself over the years, even before they tried to recruit her. Much of her knowledge came simply from listening to those who did not deign her worthy of acknowledgement. Even here, where urd’thin were relatively welcomed, it was often assumed she simply could not understand most of what was being said. Other information came from actively snooping, or working her way into jobs that gave her access to documents. More than once, she’d been paid to deliver messages or tomes written in foreign tongues, under the assumption she couldn’t read them. After all, even most of the humans in the city couldn’t read the written forms of old Aran’alian. But Airn could. Hell, she’d been to Aran’alia. Not that she’d tell anyone. They wouldn’t believe her, anyway.

As they pushed on, people gradually filled the streets again, most with the familiar ebony hair of the Aran’alians. Many of them seemed happier than the rest of the city, as if freed from the dour mood gripping most of the populace. Here, they did not lament the dragon’s escape, they celebrated it. Even when they spied urd’thin walking their lanes, there was no hostility in their eyes, and no insults muttered under their breath. Some of them even waved and smiled or offered friendly greetings.

“It’s nice to be back.” Deg sighed, a contented sound. “I missed this place.”

Airn glanced at him with a smile. “Yes, it is. Just remember-”

“I know, run by murderous rebels.” Deg held his hand up, miming it like a puppet. “Blah, blah, blah, don’t sign up for rebellion, don’t give them maps of the warrens, don’t end up brainwashed. I got it, sis.”

Airn only grinned at him. “I was going to say, just remember not to spend all your coin at the first friendly vendor you see. But yes, remember all the rest of that, too.” She flattened her ears, gently grasping his arm. “Only, maybe don’t talk about it. Not even to joke around. Some of them probably speak urd’thin, and I rather doubt they’d appreciate us openly discussing their old name. Or their plans.”

Deg grunted, but nodded agreement. “Yeah, yeah, I get it.” He licked his muzzle. “Can we find some damn food now?”

Airn released his arm, smiling. “Of course, brother. That sounds wonderful.”

Even before they reached the official border of the Aran’alian district, signs of the locals’ mixed allegiances were everywhere. Banners depicting silvery rain drops, some edged like axe blades, hung from weathered lamp poles and over painted doorways. Others displayed curving daggers. Murals of a great blue dragon stretched across the sides of buildings with sloped roofs. Shops and vendors alike showcased stuffed blue dragon toys in windows. A trio of guards in leather armor marked with metal studs bore not the colors of Illandra, but the silver raindrop patch upon their shoulders.

By the time they were nearing a heavily decorated gateway, strains of celebratory music drifted through the air, just loud enough to be heard above the growing din of voices. Like everything else, the gateway was quite old. Pillars of pitted gray stone slathered in yellow lichens and splotches of green moss stood on either side of the street. Runes were carved all down their length. An arched span of the same gray limestone connected them, stretching across the street. A plethora of stuffed blue dragons, vibrant indigo flowers, and billowing ribbons were all tied to the gateway. More such ribbons adorned the battered, wrought iron gates themselves. They were opened as wide as could be. Then again, Airn wasn’t so sure the gates even closed, anymore.

The anchoring pillars were each attached to walls that stretched off into the distance, running between homes and shops. Airn knew more such walls snaked through the district, as well as the greater city. They were remnants of a time in when such barriers ran throughout the city, further dividing and fortifying each district. Or perhaps, they lingered from a time in which the capital was not one city, but several. These days most remaining walls were long since repurposed into the construction of homes and buildings. Those that remained separate played host children’s chalk drawings and artist’s murals.

A sizable crowd stood just outside the gates, watching a street performer adorned in festive gold clothing embossed with silver rain drops. More raindrops were painted upon his face. A small flag hung from a tree behind him, embroidered with the words, The Mildly Impressive Jiamo.

At the moment, Jiamo was juggling a variety of objects, including a pair of crimson spheres, a gold-flecked apple, and knives of two different sizes. While the crowd oohed and aahed, the juggler acted as if he was going to take a bite out of the apple, mid throw. Instead, Jiamo pulled it away from his face, then tossed it higher into the sky. Immediately, one of the knives followed it. His throw was perfect, and the blade sunk deep into the apple. Without missing a beat, the performer caught it on the way back down, and continued juggling everything, now with the apple impaled on the knife. Only then did he take a bite.

Airn could not help but join in the collective applause that followed. “Alright, that was impressive. I’m gonna give him a coin.”

She pushed her way through the crowd, fishing a single golden coin from her purse. A colorful, tri-corner hat rested on the ground near the juggler’s box of implements. Several coins and trinkets already lay inside the hat. Airn walked up and tossed her coin into it, then backed up to ensure she wasn’t getting in the way.

“Thank you, my little friend!” The performer gave her a quick bow of gratitude between tricks.

“You’re quite welcome!” Airn offered him a smile as he straightened up. “That was very impressive.”

“Ah, thank you again!” Jiamo’s eyes drifted to the knife at her hip. He gestured at it with his own apple-tipped blade. “Is that handle made of what I think it is?”

Airn reached for her knife. “It is if you think it’s Aran’alian walnut.” She drew the blade free, holding it out to offer him a better view. “I had it custom made here a few months ago.”

“Ah!” The juggler tossed the spheres into his box. “I think I know where, then.” He set his blades down, then held out an open hand. “May I?”

Airn handed her knife up to him, handle first. “Certainly. You clearly know your way around a blade.”

Jiamo the weapon reverently, testing its balance. It looked unusually small in the hands of a human. He turned it back and forth, inspecting the handle, turning it back and forth, admiring the rare wood’s golden-brown sheen. “That’s beautiful. And yeah, I may have handled a dagger in my day.” He danced the weapon around his fingers, then rolled it across the back of his hand before flipping it up into the air. He spun halfway around, only to catch the knife behind his back. Then he tossed it up again, over his head, and twisted round to snatch it out of the air once more. “Yeah, that’s a really well balanced little knife.” He turned it handle first, and offered it back to Airn.

“Wait, wait, wait!” Deg pushed through the crowd to join his sister, his hammer already in his hand. “Do you think you can juggle her knife and my hammer? I’ve been tryin’ to learn to juggle it myself, maybe I can learn something from you!”

Airn folded her arms, sighing. “I’d hardly call what you do juggling, Deg.”

“Everyone’s gotta start somewhere.” Jiamo laughed, taking Deg’s hammer in his free hand. He hefted it, testing its balance. “I see you two share a weaponsmith. This little beauty feels great. I can definitely juggle these, but it’s tricky when the objects have such wildly different weight and balance.”

Airn pointed to the performer’s hat. “And he doesn’t work for free, Deg. So tip the man. This was your idea, after all.”

“Oh, right.” Deg fetched a coin, and flipped it into the juggler’s hat.

The performer glanced at his hat, then smiled at the urd’thin. “Not required, but always appreciated.” He stepped away, then scooped up one of his crimson spheres again. “Might as well make it three objects. And I’ll be as careful as I can with such fine weapons, but…” He tilted his head towards his sign. “I am only mildly impressive. So it’s only fair I warn you there’s always a chance I could drop them. You okay with that?”

“Yeah, I’m not worried.” Deg licked his muzzle, rubbing his hands together. “Go for it!”

Airn gently tugged Deg back another step, half-afraid her over-eager brother would get too close and distract the man, only to get his own hammer dropped on his head. “At least we know who’ll be paying for the repairs if he drops them.”

Jiamo made a few practice throws with each object, then went right into juggling them. Despite the inherent challenge, he made it look all too easy. The sphere flew in an elegant arc, with the knife flipping end over end behind it. Even the way the hammer tumbled through the air held a lazy ease which belied the difficulty it took to properly create such a moment. Jiamo juggled each object a few times, then finally threw them all high up over his head. He catch each as they plummeted back down, with the final catch smoothly segueing into another bow. Deg and Airn both joined the crowd in the loudest round yet of cheers and applause.

Jiamo soon handed their weapons back, beaming. “Thank you for that. That was fun!”

“My pleasure.” Airn sheathed her dagger, her ears perked. “That was a very impressive performance. I’d honestly love to stay and watch more, but…” She glanced at her brother as Deg pushed his hammer back into its belt loop. “We’re late enough as it is.”

“Oh, I totally understand.” Jiamo walked back to his box, and began rifling through it. “And trust me, the real fun’s in the market, anyway. You should see some of the musicians they’ve got playing today. And there’s a performance troop that does a comedic interpretation of the dragon’s escape. I hear they even build a little wall just to break it down.”

Another person in the audience called out. “I hear the person playing the dragon pretends to piss on the queen!”

The whole crowd called out as one. “Piss on the queen!”

Airn laughed, grasping Deg’s sleeve to tug him along with her. “I suppose that’s one way to express your displeasure.”

The gathered crowd parted to let Airn and Deg through. She kept hold of her brother’s clothing until they were past everyone, just to ensure he didn’t let himself get distracted. Once they were clear of the people, she let him go.

Deg grinned at his sister. “Did they just say what I think they said?”

“Yes, Deg.” Airn laughed again. “They said, piss on the queen. Certainly more descriptive than just saying down with her.”

A handful of guards with silver raindrop patches stood just inside the open gates. A steady stream of people flowed along the road, headed towards the celebration, with only a few already going home again. The guards were vigilant yet friendly. They looked over every new arrival, and pulled aside one man who already seemed far too inebriated to be allowed into the festival. But they also went out of their way to greet everyone with warm welcomes, and happy tidings. Just ahead of Airn and Deg, a young child was given candy, while the boy’s parents were given a voucher for a free ale.

“Aww, I want candy!” Deg broke away from Airn, walking to the guard with the candy basket. “I’m gonna ask for candy.”

Airn rolled her eyes, following her brother. “That candy’s for children, Deg. Besides, I should have thought you’d want the ale.”

“I want both!” Deg walked right up to the guard, and held his out, cupping them in front of himself. He lifted his ears, and offered the guard his biggest smile. Then, much to Airn’s dismay, he slipped into his broken common tongue persona. “Please nice guard, candy for good urd’thin?”

“Stop that!” Airn slapped him across the head, just under his horn. “It’s demeaning. Speak normally.” She glanced up at the guard. “He’s just being an ass.”

“Ow!” Deg rubbed his head, grumbling under his breath. “Alright, fine. Hey, I’d love to have some candy, please. And one of those ale vouchers, if those are available.”

The guard stared at him in silence just long enough to make Airn uncomfortable. Then he burst into laughter, scooping up a handful of candy. “Oh, we got a real smartass here, fellas. Hey, grab a couple ale tickets, and two of those urd’thin flyers, huh?” He dropped the candy into Deg’s waiting hands, then glanced at Airn. “You want any?”

Airn sighed, swishing her tail. “Why not.” She held a hand out, and the guardsman dropped several small, paper-wrapped sweets into her hand. “Thank you.” She began unwrapping one, glancing up. “Did I hear you say something about urd’thin flyers?”

“Yup! One second.” He set the basket aside, then turned to his comrades. “You got those flyers, or what?”

“We ran out.” Another guard passed him a few bright blue slips of paper. “Samvar went went to grab more.”

The first officer handed Airn and Deg one blue paper each. “Here you go. These will get you a free ale from any beer vendor in the marketplace.” He jerked his thumb towards a building behind them. “He’s getting more flyers. Wait right here, if you would. It’ll just be a moment.”

Airn popped a piece of bright blue candy into her muzzle while she waited. It tasted of melted sugar and berries. As she chewed it, she glanced after the departed soldier. While she sincerely doubted she’d have any use for whatever information the flyer presented, she was morbidly curious about just what they were handing to urd’thin. And why only to urd’thin?

As she waited, Airn turned her attention to the building where the flyers seemed to be kept. It was several stories tall, and built of the same limestone as the gates and walls. It was also in far better shape than most buildings in the area, as if it had very recently undergone a complete renovation. Battlements ringed the roof. The windows were barred. Arrow slits ringed the upper stories. The front door was iron, rather than wood. When it opened and Samvar emerged, Airn looked inside while she had the chance. It led into a separate antechamber, with another heavy iron door behind it. Airn flattened her ears. That wasn’t a guardhouse, she thought, it was a damn fortress.

Nearby, long lines of stone blocks were lined up along the back side of the wall. Near them rested a few larger, iron structures. It took Airn a moment to realize they were new gates, likely intended to replace the aging ones standing next to her. Airn’s tail twitched. Her bristle bristled beneath her dress. It looked like they intended to rebuild the walls, and turn the gate back into a functional check point. And they’d even constructed a fort to watch over it. Airn wondered if she was making too much of it. It wasn’t as if the Illandran guards didn’t have their own fortified barracks and prisons. Still, something about it sat ill at ease in Airn’s belly, and left her candy tasting bitter.

The man named Samvar strode right up to Airn and Deg, a stack of papers in his hands. He offered them both a beaming smile, and though warmth shone in his eyes, something about it seemed off. Airn wondered if the fortress was just making her paranoid. She could usually tell the difference between a real smile, and a feigned one. Airn didn’t think he was faking it, and yet, it didn’t seem completely genuine, either.

“Welcome, urd’thin friends...” The man carefully peeled off two flyers, handing one each to Airn, and Deg. “To The Wind’s Embrace. Where struggles are shared, and all peoples accepted with open hands, and open hearts. The Wind provides, and The Wind welcomes you home.” Then he bowed, and swept his hand down the street, inviting them. “Please enjoy your stay.”

There it was, Airn thought. It wasn’t that his smile was feigned, it was that it was rehearsed. She heard no animosity in his voice, saw no hatred in his eyes. But neither did she see any real exuberance in them, no excitement to be welcoming more of them into his district. For all Airn knew, Samvar might even love the urd’thin. But it was clear now he’d been doing this all day long, and every time, he gave the same damn speech. The urd’thin weren’t his friends, they were his marks.

It was all Airn could do not to crumple up the damn flyer and throw it in his face then and there. She thanked him politely, and then hurried past the guards, waiting for Deg to catch up. She folded up the flyer, and tucked it into her purse along with the rest of her candy, and the ale voucher. At least one of those things was about to prove useful.

“Hey, look!” Deg was busy inspecting his flyer by the time he reached her. “There’s a map on here.”

“To what?” Airn folded her arms, grinding her teeth. “The nearest Death in the Night recruitment center?”

Deg offered her a lopsided grin, one ear splayed. “Pretty sure we just passed it.”

That, at least, made Airn laugh. “I’m glad you didn’t fall for that garbage. I was afraid I was going to have to rip that flyer out of your hands before you took whatever it says too seriously.”

Deg’s smile faded, just a little. “Yanno, I’m not as stupid as you think I am, sis.”

Airn came to a stop, her heart sinking. Her shoulders slumped. “I’m sorry, Deg. I didn’t mean it like that. I know you’re not stupid. I just…I worry.”

“I know.” Deg tilted his head, watching her closely. “You worry I’ll let myself get wrapped up in their pretty words and their fancy armor, and they’ll convince me they actually care about the urd’thin.”

“They don’t, Deg.” Airn sniffed, staring down at her own sandaled feet. “They don’t. The people here…” She lifted her head, gazing around. “They’re kind. They’re nicer to us than the Illandrans. They’re more accepting. But Death in the Night?” She shook her head, snarling. “They don’t care about urd’thin any more than the Illandran’s do. We’re tools, to them. Cannon-fodder, at best.”

Deg shuffled his feet, his ears down. “I know, Airn. I know.”

Airn let out a whimpering sigh, turning towards her brother. She suddenly seized him in her arms, hugging him tight. “I’m sorry, Deg. We’re supposed to be having fun today, and I keep dragging us down.”

“You already said you were sorry.” Deg returned her hug, gently nuzzling her ear “But thanks, just the same.”

“You’re welcome.” Airn rubbed her brother’s back. “And I mean it. If I’ve given you the impression that I think you’re a fool, then I can’t apologize enough. I surely do not do. I know you’ve always tried to protect me, from the time we were tiny little pups, up until today. But I want to protect you, too. And now that Vakaal’s gone, I just…” She took a slow, trembling breath. “I feel as though the whole of the Warrens are resting upon my shoulders. That I’m the one responsible for them, now. And I fear to see our people deceived by a handful of candies and flowery platitudes, simply because we’re so starved for friendship. For a feeling of equality. And…” She eased back, sighing again. “Death in the Night knows they can exploit that.” Airn tilted her head back the way they’d come. “And it seems pretty obvious they plan to.”

Deg sniffled a little, smoothing out his tunic. “Yeah, well, the rest of the Warren might fall for that shit, but I won’t. I promise.” He left up the now-crumpled flyer. “But, this does have a cool map on it.”

Airn couldn’t help a laugh. “So I hear. Let me see that stupid thing.”

Deg passed her his flyer. The map on one side depicted the district’s central marketplace and surrounding area, with shops, taverns, and vendors all helpfully labeled. There were also stages shown for performances, and places where street entertainers could be found. Everything was helpfully labeled in both the local human tongue, and the urd’thin language. Airn studied it, then turned it over. On the backside was a message, also written in two languages.

Welcome honored urd’thin guests,

The Wind welcomes you in friendship,

To a Celebration of Freedom.

At long last, The Dread Sky Rises Anew.

And yet, our freedom, your freedom, remains elusive.

Like you, we fight for equality.

Our cause is your cause.

Our oppression is your oppression.

Our blood, is your blood.

Join hands.

Join us.

Live Free.

After that, there were instructions on locating several available Death in the Night recruitment offices. While none of them were actually referred as such, Airn saw the thinly veiled truth behind locations such as The Aran’alian District Logistical Support Center. She scrunched her muzzle, revulsion rising in her belly like bile.

“This is even worse than I thought.” She slapped the back of her hand against the flyer. “It’s almost like this whole festival isn’t really for them. It’s for us. So they can celebrate that some old dragon went free, while telling us we remain anything but. This is so…” She shook the flyer. “Calculated. Did you read it?”

Deg nodded. “Yeah.” He nudged his foot against the ground, glancing at the cobblestone. “Like I said, sis. I know why you’re worried about me. That’s gonna resonate with a lot of our people.”

Airn flattened her ears. “Too many of them, I fear. And now they’ll get just what they wanted from me, when I refused to join them as anything more than a…” She waved her hand. “Smuggler, and a fence.” Airn glanced at her brother. “Do you know what they wanted from me, Deg, when they tried to recruit me? Because they didn’t just want a contraband runner. Anyone could have done that for them. No, they wanted something much more dangerous. They wanted knowledge.” Airn crossed her arms, growling. “Can you guess what of?”

Deg scowled, rubbing the back of his neck, ruffling his dark brown fur. “I’m gonna guess the Warrens.”

“That’s right.” Airn smiled, a cold, bitter sort of smile. “They wanted a local urd’thin to join them because we know the Warrens, and they don’t. That’s why I make such a good smuggler for them. I can pop up on one side of town, or even outside the walls, take the package, and slink back into the tunnels.” She walked her fingers through the air. “No checkpoints, no guards, no inspections. Eventually, I think they must have realized I know the city better than some of its residents, and the tunnels better than almost anyone in our Warren.” She shook her head, snarling. “I doubt it was ever even me, that they wanted. It was the map in my head.”

Deg gestured at the flyer, still in Airn’s hand. “You think they wanted you to draw their maps for them?” A smirk twitched at his muzzle.

Airn resisted the urge to slap him across the back of his head. “Hilarious, Deg.” She glanced at the image on the paper. “Though if I did, I’d have done a better job than this wobbly-line atrocity. Besides, I think they wanted me for something else, too. My influence. I think they discovered how quickly it’s been growing. If I was to join them as an actual member, they’d have had command over someone who could not only direct them through our tunnels, but down the line, potentially help them recruit an entire army of urd’thin.”

“Yeah.” Deg crossed his arms. “That old lady in the market would have been a real asset to their rebellion.”

That made Airn laugh. She playfully slapped her brother’s arm. “Alright, Deg, I’ll admit that one was funny. But you know what I mean.” Her smile soon faded as she turned a slow circle, watching other urd’thin taking flyers and reading them aloud to their friends. “But look around us. Before long, it won’t even matter that I turned them down. If enough of our kin join up with them, and offer even a passing knowledge of the warrens, they’ll be able to piece things together all on their own. And what will they get for their efforts? What will their reward be for betraying Illandra’s undercity secrets to its oppressed peoples?”

Airn balled up her fists, a low growl in her throat. Her tail twitched one agitated twitch after another. “They’ll be thrown straight into the fire. Cassilia will use them as her…” She scrunched her muzzle. “Her meat shields. Why send her people to battle the Illandrans while they’re still fresh, if you can send a few hundred urd’thin in to wear them down first? You think Cassilia really wants her people and ours to be friends? Because I doubt it. If she cared about our people’s oppression the way she cares about hers, she’d have offered to help us remove the boots from our necks years ago. But she hasn’t. Not until now. Not until…” She waved her hand at the guards manning the checkpoint. “Not until they suddenly need bodies to swell their ranks for whatever it is they’re about to unleash. No, she doesn’t care about us, Deg. We’re tools to her. At best. And at worst? She’s actively planning to climb over our corpses on her way to stick a knife in some royal’s belly.”

Deg idly wrung his hands, his ears low, and tail lower. “You’ve been looking to get that off your chest for a while, huh? You know…” He gently brushed her arm. “If you’re not comfortable with it, you don’t gotta work for her, anymore.”

Airn wilted under his touch. “I know, Deg. But no one else in this city is gonna pay us like they do. And we need the money. Our people need the money. Most of the Illandrans already think we’re beggers and thieves.” She snarled again, fangs bared. “Or vermin. Even the kind ones scattered among them aren’t likely to pay us the way Cassilia does. Hell, same for the Aran’alians. They might be more likely to employ us, or pay us for goods, but most of them don’t have much more money than we do. But Death in the Night? They’ve got a war chest that’s positively flush with coin. So I’ll do their jobs, and I’ll take their money. But I’ll never delude myself into thinking they want me to be one of them. And I’m sure as hell not gonna fight their damn war.”

“I know, Airn.” Deg rubbed her arm, offering her a smile. “And no matter how much you worry about me? I promise you, neither I am.”

“I know, Deg.” Airn stepped forward, gently hugging her brother again. “And I’m sorry I…” She trailed off, sighing. “I’m sorry that it feels like I don’t always think highly enough of you. I do. Somewhere in my heart, under all the layers of protective-sibling worry and knee-jerk disapproval, I know you’ll do the right thing.” Her eyes wandered across another newly arriving group of urd’thin. They poured over the flyers, eagerly discussing them. “I just don’t know about the rest of us.”

Deg held her tighter, his whispered voice filled with urgency. “Airn, you can’t save everyone. You worry for me, but I do the same for you. I worry you’re going to become some enraptured with the idea of bettering our people’s lives, that you’re going to get yourself killed. Or you’re gonna stand up to the wrong person, at the wrong time, and…” He took a shaking breath. “It’s just…You’re not immortal, Airn. And you have a pup coming, and…I’ll always, always be here for you. But you can’t protect the whole warren by yourself, and you’re never going to be able to save every urd’thin in the city. And you sure as hell can’t make them all see us as their equals. I think even Vakaal would have told you that.”

Airn cringed, her ears drooping, tail sagging. “I-I’m sorry, Deg. I don’t mean to make you worry. I guess…” She managed a smile, sniffling a little. “We both need work harder on the things we do, that make each other worry.”

Deg nodded slowly. “You could start by promising me you aren’t gonna get yourself killed.”

Airn froze, her stomach twisting up. Swearing to such a thing was far too ominous a portent for an urd’thin. “I’d rather not make the sort of promise that our people don’t always get to keep.”

Deg growled at her, his ears splayed. “But I did! Alright, fine. Promise you won’t get killed on some idealistic crusade cause you were too stubborn to slip away while you had the chance.”

“I’m the one who was telling you how to slip away when those imposters…” She trailed off when Deg only glared at her. “Alright, fine. I promise I won’t get killed on an idealistic crusade, as long as I have a realistic chance to escape. Or…at least, I promise to do my best not to get killed.” She clicked her teeth. “Don’t wanna jinx it.”

Deg grunted, flicking his tail. “I’ll take it.” He hugged her anew, and with a fresh, loving fierceness. “I love ya, Airn.”

Airn hugged him back just as tightly. “I love you too, Deg. And…you were right, you know. About Vakaal, I mean. We used to talk about…” She trailed off, resting her muzzle upon her brother’s shoulder. Some truths, even Deg didn’t know. “Whether this city would ever truly see us as equals. How, if it ever happened, it had to come from our actions. That it was up to us, to find a way to change our own lot in life, through our actions.”

“And he was right.” Deg hugged her a moment longer, then eased back. He lifted a hand to gently smooth back her ears. “I miss him too, you know.”

Airn smiled, resting her hand across his. “I know, Deg. But I was the one who told him that.” Her eyes wandered a moment, soon landing upon a group of Death in the Night soldiers. She gestured dismissively at them. “And this rebellion, or whatever it is they’re plotting? That’s not the way we do it. All the bloodshed in the world won’t change things for the better. Not for them, and certainly not for us. Imagine what would happen if we joined Death in the Night, and they really did rise up against the city. If they lost? Illandra would use that as an excuse to stamp us out. There wouldn’t even be any urd’thin left when it was over.”

Deg swallowed, dropping his hand back down. His tail sagged. “You’re probably right.”

“And even if we won, then what?” She snorted. “We rule Illandra alongside the Aran’alians? They’ll share the battlefield with us, they’ll let us die for them, but do you really think they’ll share the glory when it’s over? Not that it would matter for long.” She sighed, shaking her head. “This is all a terrible cycle. Deg. Overthrow the Illandras with blood and flame, and all it does is turn the wheel. Because the next day, they’ll be the oppressed, rising up for revenge in a tide of blood. And all this happens again.”

Deg gave a long, low sigh. “You really think Death in the Night is planning to launch a coup?”

Airn grimaced, her muzzle twisted. “It sure as hell looks that way to me. I can’t say for sure, but they’d be going to an awful lot of effort if they weren’t. And those imposters we sure? Surely they’re part of it, somehow.”

“So…” Deg rested his hand on his hammer again. “What do we do when it happens? Whose side do we take?”

“I don’t know, Deg.” Airn shook her head. “But this is our city too. It doesn’t matter if half the people in it don’t want me here, it’s still my home. It’ll be my daughter’s home, too. I refuse to be forced to choose between two flavors of cruelty just to survive, but…” Airn gave a low, frustrated growl. “I’ll be damned before I sit by and nothing while my home burns down around me.”