Page 80 of Vilest Things
Then the war came, and the gods angered. There needed to be natural order in the mortal world. Qi is born, and must die. Humanity may be granted blessings, but it should never think it, too, can play god.
The crown was a gift from the heavens. When its wearer dared not accept her heaven-mandated abdication, a godling of balance came down to restore order. She was so taken aback by the grievances committed that she had no choice but to curse the crown from being touched, to beg the gods to stay away. Let Talin recover. This was her terrain: balance had been upset, and she would pluck herself out of the pantheon to guard the crown for however long it took. Until the war resumed.
Deep in the mountains, the crown feels a presence draw close.
And it begins again.
The Weisannas put a temporary curfew over San-Er. All civilians need to be inside by nightfall for their own protection, because the Crescent Societies have taken to the streets.
Councilmember Aliha’s death is announced on the nighttime newsreels, the surveillance footage playing in high definition. That part of the city has recently installed color cameras. When the splatter of red hits the alley wall, the pattern resembles a bird spreading its wings.
Councilmember Bethilia of Yingu Province is attacked at the open market. Three masked figures home in on her with knives, and seconds later, she’s already beyond saving or attempting a jump while she bleeds out beside the meat for sale. Over twenty witnesses report that the attackers had crescent moon tattoos on their hands. The Weisannas announce the Crescent Societies as the perpetrators, but they don’t have further specifics on the attackers’ identities. With that many members belonging to the temples, they must arrest either all of them or none of them.
The councilmember of Meannin—to the left of Laho—survives being struck multiple times by a blunt object, but she hasn’t yet woken in the hospital. The councilmember of Ediso—atop Kelitu on the other side of the Jinzi River—has his hand amputated when he reaches for his dinner at the coliseum market, but the Crescent with the knife is already running before his stump starts spurting with blood.
It’s anarchy.
But the regular civilians of San-Er have certainly noticed that they’re not the ones getting attacked.
Yilas and Chami slink out from the back door of the diner, and no one is abiding by curfew. Faint bass music pumps from one of the facilities in thebuilding. Chami squeezes Yilas’s hand twice, and Yilas returns the gesture, acknowledging that she also sees the three women lurking at the end of the alley. They pass by with no problem.
“We’ve done a lot of ridiculous things in our lifetime,” Yilas mutters, “but this might win a prize of its own.”
“Nothing ridiculous about it,” Chami assures her. “It’s a perfect way to get communication out and help your brother.”
“By working with the perpetrators he’s accusing?”
Chami sighs, but it’s a sound made with fondness, not exasperation. She doesn’t say more. They’ve debated this no less than eight times since the phone call last night. When Yilas tried to end the call with the woman—Bibi—by claiming they actually had no way to contact Calla Tuoleimi since her phone signal was too poor, very sorry, better luck with another avenue, Bibi cut in immediately. The Crescent Societies had the technology to improve the signal, so long as they had Calla’s phone number. That was an easy obstacle. Bibi would supply the method, and all she asked in return was to tack on her own message after Yilas communicated with Calla.
“Why… would you allow that?” Yilas asked, confused. “Do you understand the conversation you overheard in the surveillance room? My brother is trying to report you. I’m about to tell Calla that there’s a nuisance in the palace she needs to deal with—you—and then you want to hop in and say hello?”
“I trust that the princess can make an informed decision.” Bibi didn’t sound worried.
And neither did Chami, after they hung up.
“Who cares what the Crescent Societies want to say?” she asked. “Calla can let it go in one ear and out the other. She’s not going to do anything she doesn’t want to.”
Maybe Yilas is too used to chasing after Matiyu while they were growing up. Hardworking Matiyu, who did his homework and believed his classmates when they said they only wanted to see his assignments for inspiration. Easily gullibleMatiyu, who willingly joined a cult after graduating from the academy because it was the quickest way to climb the ranks of the capital and make quick cash before he was fast-tracked into respectable work.
The Crescent Societies have always been the most likely contender to bring down the palace. Butmostlikely still doesn’t mean likely. If the Palace of Union really wanted, it would take a day to tear down every temple in the capital. They’ve let them stand because the Crescent Societies would need colossal support to win over San-Er—hungry San-Er, desperate San-Er. Between a reliable next meal and revolution, the people of the cities would choose keeping their shitty job.
“Stop worrying so much,” Chami says now. “Once we’ve passed the message to Calla, it isn’t our business anymore. Especially with Matiyu interviewing in the financial district. They can burn down the palace, for all we care.”
“That wouldn’t be great either,” Yilas replies. “I kind of prefer having a functioning economy.”
Chami snorts. They proceed through San, and though it is quieter than usual, there is no sense of danger. Stores maintain the facade of closing, but their shopfront gates are only pulled halfway, letting people duck in regardless. Yilas squints through one of their windows. The Two Chicken Restaurant is certainly open: its patrons are only eating in the dark so that no patrolling palace guard tells them off.
San’s most prominent cybercafe is only a ten-minute walk from the Magnolia Diner, so it isn’t long before Yilas and Chami approach its front entrance and press their faces close to the glass door. The lights are off. Bibi said to meet here, but she didn’t say whether they were supposed to go in or hover outside.
“Hear anything?” Chami whispers.
Yilas shakes her head. “This would be the first place the Weisannas shut down, so I doubt they’ll operate openly. Let’s try the back.”
The cafe, although self-sufficient, is still located in the ground floor of a mall, and the mall’s main entrance is a creaky revolving door on Mouco Street.As soon as they approach along Mouco Street, though, sidestepping someone’s abandoned bicycle out front—did they purchase it in Er, then realize it was too hard to ride bikes through San?—Yilas figures the revolving door must be locked. Yilas shakes the pushbar roughly, as though that might loosen the structure, and Chami giggles.
“Something funny?”
“You are, my darling. I think there’s a door stopper here.” Chami kicks away a triangular block jammed under one part of the revolving door. When she leans over to nudge the pushbar again, the door starts to move. “There we are.”
