Splinter Angel Chapter 160 (Patreon)

Having a little baby girl named after her wasn’t the only honor foisted onto Ana before the cycle ended.

With a week left, and with planning and preparations well underway for her departure, Ana still held her morning classes in martial arts and self-defence; they alternated with the days on which she met Aaspiyah. After finishing one such class, she found her friend Dilmik waiting for her at the edge of the training yard.

“Captain Pirta would like to meet with you tonight,” the big Clerk said, a suspicious twinkle in her eye and her aura buzzing with… mischief, perhaps. Ana wasn’t sure what else to call the mix of anticipation and amusement.

“Is that so?” Ana said flatly. “What for?”

“Mistress Drisa didn’t say. She also gave me strict instructions not to pass on anything I might suspect or have overheard, so…”

“If Drisa’s involved it can’t be anything bad,” Messy interjected, wrapping her arms around Ana from behind and resting her chin on her shoulder. “When and where?”

“I didn’t say I was going,” Ana protested.

“Of course you’re going. You’re as curious as I am, and we both know that. I’m just making sure you don’t give Dil a hard time about it before you give in.”

Ana sighed. “Sometimes I hate letting someone know me so well.”

“No you don’t,” Messy said, turning her head to kiss the short hair that had now grown in on Ana’s sides, whitened with some kind of matte white clay. “So, Dil. When and where?”

“Her office, an hour after sunset,” Dilmik said, grinning at the two of them. “Gods I’m going to miss you two. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I see some of my students among yours!” And with that she walked off, shouting in cheerful Wanteul to some of the Stolen who’d joined Ana’s class.

By the time Ana and Messy had eaten dinner with their friends—who’d all left suspiciously early—and it was time to head to Captain Pirta’s new office, Ana knew for sure that there was some kind of conspiracy going on. She was too damn perceptive not to pick up on the glances and the poorly hidden smiles. She just didn’t know what they had planned. A surprise of some kind, obviously, but what?

Ana didn’t like surprises, but with all her friends involved and hiding it so poorly, the only surprise was what they had planned. Fine. She was self-assured enough to let them have their fun, and asking or showing that she knew that something was up would ruin everything. She’d just have to find out the hard way.

With Haytham Talleh having destroyed Administration over a month earlier, many of the Splinter’s Administrative functions were now being handled out of a converted storehouse at the Exchange. It was somewhat cramped, but it was one of the few buildings in the Splinter with a ceiling high enough for Captain Pirta to walk without stooping. And when Ana and Messy arrived at the entrance, one thing became clear. Either everybody involved had forgotten just how sharp Ana’s hearing was—unlikely—or they were deliberately taking her dislike of surprises into consideration, because there were quite a few people inside and they were not doing much to keep their mirth and excitement hidden.

The hushed voices and giggles stopped when Messy opened the front door, but Ana could still hear the breathing of multiple people inside Pirta’s temporary office when her girlfriend knocked and announced them. Ana’s Warrior’s Intuition told her that there was a chance she was about to walk into an ambush; she judged it unlikely. Frankly she wondered if the Enhancement needed some kind of calibration; it hadn’t warned her about the damned revenants some weeks back, and now it was suggesting one of her friends—because who else would be hiding poorly on the other side of that door—might stab her in the back.

“Come,” Pirta called, her voice as neutral as ever, and Ana and Messy let themselves in. And sure, Warrior’s Intuition hadn’t been wrong. The way everyone except Captains Pirta and Falk had packed themselves against the wall so that they wouldn’t be visible until Ana walked through the door might be considered an ambush, if not for the annoyed glances Pirta kept shooting them all. Glances that must have been entirely deliberate. Pirta was a better warrior than that. Not that it made any difference; with how small the makeshift office was, there was no way for eight people to really hide.

There was no great shout of Surprise! as Ana walked in, but Jisha, Kaira, Rayni, and Deni immediately crowded in, welcoming and congratulating her. Touanne, Tor, Tellak and Omda stood back, more reserved but no less pleased with themselves.

“I tried to dissuade them,” Pirta said drily once the noise had settled, and Ana stood entirely surrounded before her desk. “There were quite a few others who wished to be present as well. I had to haggle my way down to this throng.”

“You couldn’t have exercised your authority, Captain?” Ana asked, matching her tone.

Pirta gave her a small, sharp smile. “I don’t see why I should ruin the fun entirely, Miss Ana. Now, I’m sure that you wonder why I’ve asked you here.”

“The question’s come up.”

“Indeed,” Pirta said, turning her smile on Captain Falk. “Well, I think this should come from Tober, here. He was the one who suggested it to me, after all.”

“I’m the one who told him!” Kaira blurted from right beside Ana. “It was a whole big group thing, but I’m the one who told him! Well, I told Marra, but you know.”

Captain Falk laughed. “Indeed,” he said, copying Pirta’s tone. “Miss Ana. In a few days time, three days before the cycle ends, to be exact, we will have a meeting in the square. That’s all very standard, though the content of this particular meeting will be anything but. It’s normally a time for the Splinter’s leaders to speak about what has happened during the cycle, good and bad. In our case… I imagine there will be quite a few tears.” He fell silent, closing his eyes for a moment before clearing his throat and continuing. “But there will be some good things as well. Messages of resilience, and of hope for the future. There are the little children, of course; little Wandak and Anastasia.”

The room exploded into cheers.

“And we had one more thing planned,” Falk continued, his own cheer no less than anyone else’s. “Something we wanted to tell you more privately, so that you are not taken by surprise.”

“We are quite aware of how much you dislike surprises,” Pirta said, still smiling sharply, then turned a pointed look first at Kaira, and then at everyone else. “As are your friends, I’m sure.”

“Quite,” Falk agreed with a chuckle.

“So…” Ana asked, drawing the word out. “What?”

They’d wanted to surprise Ana. When she and Messy returned home, her protests having been roundly rejected, she couldn’t deny that they’d done one hell of a job.

*

By long-standing tradition, on the third day before the end of a cycle a meeting was held for every resident of the Splinter in question. Depending on the age and population of the Splinter, this meeting may take place in a field outside of the outpost—here, the square was large enough. Especially considering the losses they’d suffered over the past several months.

The people responsible for many of those losses had not been invited. They may have offered their services after Rill was possessed, but having the mercenaries there would have been an insult to all their victims. People were unhappy as it was, about the amnesty they’d been offered. There was no need to inflame tempers further by including them in something that was shaping up to be part celebration, and part funeral.

For the first time in a long while Ana was in the crowd as the meeting opened, and not where Pirta stood. At Pirta’s request she was right at the front, along with Touanne and the two new mothers, but being allowed to spend most of the meeting in the audience rather than facing it was a pleasant change. She’d be called up sooner or later, but until then she was going to enjoy the novelty of the situation.

A signal from Drisa announced that the time of the meeting’s opening had arrived, and Pirta held up her hand in a call for silence. It took a while, but she got it.

“People of the Splinter,” the captain called, her voice carrying easily to every corner of the square. “Fellow members of the Bluesky Guild, and those few who have, for reasons of your own, chosen not to join. I will not mince words. This has been a difficult cycle. A cycle filled with struggle. With hardship. With pain and loss. But also with triumph, perseverance, and growth. We should not forget the suffering we have gone through. We cannot. How could we possibly forget the loved ones we have lost? How could we possibly forget the injuries we ourselves have endured? We cannot.”

Pirta held there, letting the sounds of the crowd—agreement, anger, and tears—settle before continuing. “For that reason, I will begin by reading out the names of the fallen.”

And so she did, reading out, as far as Ana could tell, the name and profession or Class of every person who’d gone missing or been confirmed dead since the beginning of the cycle. She began with people Ana had never heard of; Delvers, hunters, and foragers who’d been lost even before she arrived. As she continued, there were some names Ana could put a face to, like Tellak and Jancia’s friend, Medecilia the Sharpshooter. Most names meant little to her. Pirta made no difference between the dead. Rankin and Larrion, the men who’d attacked Ana as she made her way north along the road with no idea of what might be waiting for her, both made an appearance. So did the traitors.

After far too long a list, Pirta read out the final name: Rill the Horde Breaker. After a short pause she said, “Whoever they were, and whatever they did, may they rest in peace.”

A respectful murmur rippled through the crowd, drowning out the small handful of objections over the inclusion of the dead traitors. At Ana’s side Messy was one of those who whispered, “May they rest,” though her grip on Ana’s hand had tightened angrily every time a traitor’s name was read out.

“But these deaths, though senseless and unnecessary, were not for nothing. We are still here. Our outpost still stands. Our Splinter endures. To honor the memory of those who gave their lives in the forest, at the gate, on the march, at the white obelisk, or anywhere else before, in between, or after, we must not let this community fail!”

Among the angry shouts of agreement and the scattered cheers and applause, Pirta lowered her voice so that only those closest to her could hear. “Ladies,” she said to the two new mothers, and to Touanne who stood with them. “If you would?”

With careful steps the two women ascended the plinth to stand beside the captain, Touanne following close behind and taking Pirta’s other side. Yarri had little Wandak at her breast, seeming entirely unembarrassed to nurse her son in front of the crowd. Nor did anyone comment on it. Little Anastasia was whining unhappily and seemed close to tears, with Nistra bouncing her and singing softly to soothe her.

“I’m sure no one has missed that there have been two births in the past few weeks,” Pirta declared, and this was one of the few times Ana could remember hearing genuine happiness in Pirta’s voice. “Both delivered without complications, and with the help of our esteemed midwife, Mistress Touanne.”

The applause now was louder, and the cheers more heartfelt. “As the first children born in our Splinter, and as the mothers have each declared their intention to stay, Yarri’s son Wandak and Nistra’s daughter Anastasia represent, if only symbolically, our future. I ask you all to join me in welcoming these two little ones to the world, and to wish them and their parents all health and fortune!”

At that, the cheers became a true roar as people shouted out their blessings and well-wishes. Ana herself couldn’t help but smile. There was something undeniable about hearing a crowd so earnestly declare their fervent desire for these little kids to have a good life. And it wasn’t just lip service. With everyone in the square so in sync it was like their auras merged, melding together into something far stronger than its individual parts, and the overwhelming emotions carried on that communal aura were joy, hope, and something Ana could only describe as benevolence.

If even a fraction of the outpouring of emotion that Ana could feel remained in the long term, she knew, these two babies would never lack for love. And while Ana could have used Eye of the Storm to stop herself being pulled along, she chose not to. It was a wonderful feeling, new and intoxicating and on par with the love she felt from Messy, and she would not deny herself something so wholesome. Why should she? She truly did wish the new mothers and their babies well, at least intellectually. Why not let herself feel it, as well?

As Ana rode the wave of positive emotion, Pirta looked down again wearing the biggest, most genuine smile Ana had ever seen on her. In a voice pitched for only Ana to hear, the captain said, “Ana? It’s your turn.”

Ana had protested when the two captains told her their intentions, but with time and gentle persuasion by Messy and her friends, she’d accepted the inevitable. She was going to take it as the honor and compliment that it was. With even, deliberate steps, Ana joined the captain before the Waystone, taking her place between Touanne and the captain, and turned to face the crowd.

“It is traditional that a Splinter is named only once it stabilizes,” Pirta called. “That should have been now, but due to the hardships we’ve suffered, it’s not so. But we, the officers of the Splinter, have decided to buck tradition, at least somewhat. You all know Anastasia Cole—”

Some few faces lost their smiles, but the cheers rose higher. Somewhere a chant of “Marshal! Marshal! Marshal!” began, while others called out “Don’t lose, right?!” and others replied, “Right!” Laughter rippled, and the eyes of most of the crowd were so bright that Ana felt her own mist up.

“She’s renounced the title of marshal,” Pirta responded with a chuckle of her own. “Let’s respect that, shall we? But none can deny that if not for her, if not for her being among the first of the Stolen, if not for her escape and survival and her leadership, none of us would be standing here today. This Splinter would no longer exist. It is only fitting, then, that when we choose a name for this Splinter, we should follow Miss Nistra’s example and name it for the one who spearheaded its salvation. This Splinter shall be nameless no longer! From this moment on, I declare this to be the Summer Angel Splinter!”

They hadn’t actually told her what the name would be ahead of time. She found out along with everyone else. And no one had asked Ana to do anything except stand on the plinth to accept the honor being bestowed on her, but Ana had enough of a flair for the dramatic to improvise. As Pirta’s final words rang across the square, Ana manifested her wings and rose, just like she had that first time when the Wayfarer raised her up. She looked out across the crowd and opened her arms to them, inviting and accepting their acclamation all at once, and as she received it, as she felt all their relief and joy at being alive, their hope for the future, and their pride in being part of something, of being in some way adjacent to her, it all became too much to hold back.

The feelings wouldn’t last, she knew that. Neither her own, nor those of the crowd. They’d fade in the next few days, or hours, or even minutes. But right there and then, for one long, glorious moment, Ana allowed herself to accept the love of nearly a whole community. As the cheers and the cries of Marshal and Chosen and Ana and Angel! Our angel! echoed between the walls as a nearly incomprehensible mass of sound, she dropped every hint of a mask. Ana allowed her true feelings to show, and beamed until her face hurt.