Page 73 of Vilest Things
“You called me, so you’ll have to explain yourself first.”
“On the contrary, you gave my girlfriend this number on a card, so I’d like to know who I’m having words with.”
Chami flashes Yilas a grin. She’s enjoying herself.
“Oh!” Over the line, the speaker changes tones entirely. “You should have started with that! I’m Bibi.”
The woman has an accent. Yilas hadn’t listened too closely in the palace, or perhaps Bibi had been working to disguise it. People in San-Er so rarely hear a different manner of speaking that the only reason Yilas recognizes the distinction at all is because the palace would bring in the occasional legal migrant for attendants, and most kept their drawls for the first year or so before the cities flattened their words by force.
“Bibi, what can we help you with?” Chami holds up the card to the light, taking another look at it.
“I won’t waste your time. I’d like you to help me get in contact with the princess. I know you’re both her former attendants.”
Yilas gestures intently, telling ChamiI told you so. Chami chucks the card at Yilas silently, missing on purpose.
“And why”—Chami pushes the camcorder closer to the phone, making sure it catches all the audio—“should we do that?”
“A Crescent Society takeover of San-Er is imminent. There will be significantly less friction if Calla collaborates with us. The cities will follow a natural heir of the throne.”
Yilas throws her arms into the air. She might as well be a fucking mind reader with how she’s predicted this conversation. The Crescent Societies know that San-Er will not accept them easily—they are still a fringe group, after all, with a reputation for extremism and kidnapping civilians. The Crescent Societies desire change, and perhaps there genuinely are members among them that have sensible ideas, but they have operated as a black-market operation for far too long. Even if they are entirely successful in wiping out the palace, they will still have the people’s disdain. For decades, Talin has been taught to accept the will of their heavens, to honor the aristocrats elevated by their bloodlines and let the nobles rule over the masses. For years, San-Er has warned their children to come home after dark because Crescents are lurking in the alleys. None of that goes away easily.
“You’re going to have to give me more information than that,” Chami counters. “I doubt a takeover is imminent.”
“It is. We will seize the Palace of Union by force.”
“How so?”
“Is this an interrogation? These aren’t necessary details. The only critical component is that Calla’s approval soothes the people. I’m sure she wants to work something out with us in exchange for a ruling title.”
Chami examines her nails, leaning into the wall. She looks entirely unbothered, her tone no-nonsense. “If I’m taking something to Calla, I’m going to need details. Do you know how many people want an audience with her? How do I know you’re not wasting her time with a plan doomed to fail?”
“I can’t give you our exact time or method. I will tell you that we have the complete blueprints to the Palace of Union and a dependable route in—”
“And how do you have complete blueprints to the Palace of Union?” Chami interrupts. “That’s not information maintained on any data server. Hidden entrances, servant passageways, and panic rooms are never told in full to attendants, staff members, or employees of the surveillance room. Without a full picture of lockdown plans, it is highly unlikely any palace offensive will be successful.”
Yilas is so in love right now.
“So unless—I don’t know—acouncilmemberhas somehow sworn loyalty to the Crescent Societies and given up their inside knowledge, I doubt you have complete blueprints,” Chami continues. “Nice try, though.”
The silence draws long on the other end. Yilas has to assume that Bibi has been caught out, and this is the end of whatever scheme the Crescent Societies wanted to play tricks with.
“We do have a reliable source,” Bibi finally says.
She speaks with hesitation, again. Yilas sidles nearer to the phone. There’s no reason to carry this out any longer. It’s not going to be successful. It will be another failed Crescent Society coup, and Calla has much more important things on her plate.
Yilas’s finger is already hovering on the hook switch to hang up. Then:
“Before she was killed, Julia Makusa drew them up for us.”
CHAPTER 26
By the first rays of morning, they’re almost at the other end of long, curvy Lankil Province. They’ll pass into Laho shortly, which shouldn’t take more than another day to cross. Laho Province is shaped like two rectangles pressed together—a common feature among most of the provinces deeper inland, where they neatly sectioned the land apart for ease of governance. Provinces that formed around natural rivers and mountains must draw their lines accordingly, but Talin’s north is smooth land and flat desert terrain, fit for straight borders. It causes spats between councilmembers sometimes when their generals slack off and don’t patrol all the way to the edge of the province, assuming the neighboring soldiers will pick up the extra work.
Calla rides in the second carriage, digging through Galipei’s bag. She’s not a fan of sitting upright in his body. The carriage is past capacity, and she’s jammed in tight with the other Weisannas working the councilmembers’ protection detail. With his height, his head brushes the top of the carriage every time there’s a pebble on the road and the wheels jostle, which is starting to cause static with his hair. Her hair. Whatever.
Calla pulls out a digital watch and turns it around in inspection. The numbers aren’t moving, permanently stuck at 05:27. She doesn’t know why Galipei iscarrying around a broken watch. Maybe he stopped it on purpose at some point or another to track their journey. After Laho, there’s Actia Province, known for being half sand. Some of it spills into Rincun to its north too, but Rincun’s elements are harsher with the borderlands on its other side. Rather than sand, it is stone; rather than dunes, it sees cold steppes.
Three more provinces,Calla tells herself.
