ignoring these regions.
“But no one asks us, do they, Delin?” he asked Jaq, ruffling his ears.
“Ghazi?”
“Nothing, Kaptin.”
“Then we’ll see you at the Invocation.” With a nod, Kaptin Julide withdrew, her delinkos in tow. Kemal was left to stare into his empty cup as if the few remaining tea leaves could show him the future. As he reached for the urn, the hazy form of a child outlined against the city’s dark, cobblestone streets rose up before his eyes again, then winked out in a spray of mist. He nodded. Something was happening, it just wasn’t happening to the south.
Nor to the north either, his mind supplied.
No, he agreed, it was happening here. He just wished he knew what it was and what he was supposed to do about it. Suddenly no longer hungry, he tossed the rest of his breakfast to Jaq, then followed the kaptin from the hall.
Across the city, as the rising sun painted the many battlements and minarets of Anavatan with broad streaks of fire, Brax and Spar scrambled onto a stone pier overlooking the Halic-Salmanak, the freshwater strait that separated the Northern from the Western Trisect. As a new set of priests began to sing, calling the sworn to the Morning Invocations, Brax handed the younger boy a piece of bread they’d managed to barter for yesterday’s purse.
“The streets’ll be bare in a moment,” he observed, watching a school of mercan fish swim by. “Anyone not singing at Gods’ll be at breakfast.” Squinting up at the cloudy sky, his expression grew thoughtful. “We could sniff around the market and see what Havo left us.” He shot Spar a quick glance. The younger boy had been quiet and withdrawn all morning, but the dark circles under his eyes were fading and he’d attacked his breakfast with his usual appetite. “Or maybe slip in through some hostel’s back door and check out their kitchens? What do you think?” he continued.
Spar stared out across the water, then nodded slowly.
Satisfied, Brax stood, dusting invisible crumbs off his tunic before leaping from the pier to the soft, white sand below. “Meyhane-Kopek’s the closest,” he observed. “We could see if anything’s been left lying around and if not, we could always beg some work at Ystazia-Cami. All those outdoor stalls in the main courtyard must have gotten tossed around pretty well last night. They might need help putting them back together, yeah?”
Spar nodded. Work wasn’t as profitable as lifting, but it was safer. He was glad Brax was keeping their options open. As the singing ended, he clambered down and followed the older boy through the deserted streets toward Meyhane-Kopek, his eyes darting this way and that, alert for any sign of danger. As Anavatan began to shimmer with a faint silvery-yellow glow as the sworn evoked the power of their Gods, he shivered. Gods were a frightening unknown and the unknown was always a danger.
In Estavia-Sarayi’s huge central parade ground, Kemal, now fully dressed in deep blue tunic, sandals, and leather armor, stood beside Yashar, the fingers of his right hand resting easily against the pommel of his sword. Around him, the Battle God’s warriors stood as still as statues, each company occupying the position it would hold on the battlefield: archers from Verdant and Turquoise Companies on the flanks, Sable Company, with its many powerful seers, to the rear protecting the long line of delinkon behind them, the lines of mounted Bronze Company cavalry on their huge warhorses at the vanguard, and the four infantry companies of Azure, Cyan, Sapphire, and Indigo in the center. Those who no longer actively served the God through age or infirmity rested on long, marble benches beneath the encircling line of cinar and poplar trees to one side. Kemal could just make out Elif seated with her hands resting on Jaq’s broad shoulders, but she too, like the rest, remained motionless, waiting.
The muted notes of Usara’s Invocation filtered out to them from
“But no one asks us, do they, Delin?” he asked Jaq, ruffling his ears.
“Ghazi?”
“Nothing, Kaptin.”
“Then we’ll see you at the Invocation.” With a nod, Kaptin Julide withdrew, her delinkos in tow. Kemal was left to stare into his empty cup as if the few remaining tea leaves could show him the future. As he reached for the urn, the hazy form of a child outlined against the city’s dark, cobblestone streets rose up before his eyes again, then winked out in a spray of mist. He nodded. Something was happening, it just wasn’t happening to the south.
Nor to the north either, his mind supplied.
No, he agreed, it was happening here. He just wished he knew what it was and what he was supposed to do about it. Suddenly no longer hungry, he tossed the rest of his breakfast to Jaq, then followed the kaptin from the hall.
Across the city, as the rising sun painted the many battlements and minarets of Anavatan with broad streaks of fire, Brax and Spar scrambled onto a stone pier overlooking the Halic-Salmanak, the freshwater strait that separated the Northern from the Western Trisect. As a new set of priests began to sing, calling the sworn to the Morning Invocations, Brax handed the younger boy a piece of bread they’d managed to barter for yesterday’s purse.
“The streets’ll be bare in a moment,” he observed, watching a school of mercan fish swim by. “Anyone not singing at Gods’ll be at breakfast.” Squinting up at the cloudy sky, his expression grew thoughtful. “We could sniff around the market and see what Havo left us.” He shot Spar a quick glance. The younger boy had been quiet and withdrawn all morning, but the dark circles under his eyes were fading and he’d attacked his breakfast with his usual appetite. “Or maybe slip in through some hostel’s back door and check out their kitchens? What do you think?” he continued.
Spar stared out across the water, then nodded slowly.
Satisfied, Brax stood, dusting invisible crumbs off his tunic before leaping from the pier to the soft, white sand below. “Meyhane-Kopek’s the closest,” he observed. “We could see if anything’s been left lying around and if not, we could always beg some work at Ystazia-Cami. All those outdoor stalls in the main courtyard must have gotten tossed around pretty well last night. They might need help putting them back together, yeah?”
Spar nodded. Work wasn’t as profitable as lifting, but it was safer. He was glad Brax was keeping their options open. As the singing ended, he clambered down and followed the older boy through the deserted streets toward Meyhane-Kopek, his eyes darting this way and that, alert for any sign of danger. As Anavatan began to shimmer with a faint silvery-yellow glow as the sworn evoked the power of their Gods, he shivered. Gods were a frightening unknown and the unknown was always a danger.
In Estavia-Sarayi’s huge central parade ground, Kemal, now fully dressed in deep blue tunic, sandals, and leather armor, stood beside Yashar, the fingers of his right hand resting easily against the pommel of his sword. Around him, the Battle God’s warriors stood as still as statues, each company occupying the position it would hold on the battlefield: archers from Verdant and Turquoise Companies on the flanks, Sable Company, with its many powerful seers, to the rear protecting the long line of delinkon behind them, the lines of mounted Bronze Company cavalry on their huge warhorses at the vanguard, and the four infantry companies of Azure, Cyan, Sapphire, and Indigo in the center. Those who no longer actively served the God through age or infirmity rested on long, marble benches beneath the encircling line of cinar and poplar trees to one side. Kemal could just make out Elif seated with her hands resting on Jaq’s broad shoulders, but she too, like the rest, remained motionless, waiting.
The muted notes of Usara’s Invocation filtered out to them from
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