“You two aren’t…?” Scorio cut himself off.
“What?” asked Helena, arching an eyebrow, her eyeshadow glinting in the lantern light. “Great Souls?”
“Sure,” he said, deciding it was too late to retract the obvious.
“No,” said Feiyan, tone deadpan. “We’re not. Are you?”
His exhaustion and hunger dulled his wits, so that for a moment he simply stared at her, trying to think of a convincing denial.
“Let’s not get personal!” said Helena, voice rich with false cheer. “That was the agreement, wasn’t it?”
“Right,” said Scorio. “It was. So Great Souls run things around here?”
“That they do,” said Helena. “Though most of them end up leaving Bastion to go deeper into hell. To LastRock, or the Fiery Shoals, or Red Keep. Only the ones content to run the Houses end up sticking around.”
LastRock. He’d heard that name. Jova Spike had been from there. “So when you die, you don’t come back?”
Both women stared at him.
“What?” He leaned his head back against the wall. “I’m too tired and hungry to pretend to know things I don’t.”
“We don’t come back here,” said Feiyan, tone short, her words sounding as if she were repeating a stock phrase. “We’ll be reborn back in Ettera, having served a lifetime assisting the heroes of Bastion.”
Scorio stared at her blankly. “Ettera. That’s our homeworld.”
“Somebody give him a prize,” said Feiyan, tone growing irritable.
“You said no metaphysical questions,” said Scorio, ignoring her. “But why did we come here? As a people? Why build Bastion?”
Helena stared at her fingernails as she cleaned dirt out from under one of them. “I mean, that’s the question of the hour, isn’t it? We’re all told from birth that it was to stop hell from coming back to Ettera. Now, is that true? Who can tell? But the fact is, the portal home’s been closed for as long as anyone can remember. If it really even ever was a portal.”
“You know what I think?” asked Feiyan, dark eyes glittering. “I think the Deniers are speaking a whole lot of sense. All of that’s a story made up by the Great Souls to justify the way they treat us—”
“Feiyan,” protested Helena.
“To justify the way they’ve set up Bastion, the order of things, the systems of oppression that keep us poor and servile.” Feiyan’s stare could have bored holes in the Brass Door. “We’ve all these stories, but nobody knows if they’re true. Even the Great Souls. Even the leaders of the bloody Houses. Nobody knows. There’s no proof. All this time we were told to look to their damned Empyreal Prophecy, and look how that turned out. A humiliation.” She leaned forward. “You want to know what’s really going on? We’re born into Bastion, we serve for as long as we’re useful, and then we die. Unless you’re a Great Soul, and then you live a life of privilege and get to come back. Which isn’t the honor it’s made out to be. In fact, I think it’s the worst form of punishment I can think of.”
“Great,” said Helena, tone resigned. “You going to give him revolution pamphlets while you’re at it?”
“Nah,” said Feiyan, looking away at last and recrossing her arms.
“Thank you,” said Helena, and summoned a smile. “So! What else you want to ask?”
Scorio frowned, looking from one woman to the next. “I don’t know. What do you think I should ask?”
“Oh, tricky. I like it.” Helena leaned forward and roped her arms around her knees again. “You’re going to want to lay low, not draw attention, and find a means to make octs. Which means working with House Basilisk, most likely. Bastion’s too small, too provincial for you to try and get a job without raising eyebrows.”
“Neither of you seems provincial or local.”
“That’s because we’re fabulous,” said Helena with a grin. “And clearly know how the world works and don’t ask stupid questions. But even we have a tough time of it. Sure, there’s a small part of society that doesn’t want to work the way their parents work, that wants something more like freedom, to get out of the system. But we can make that work because we know the rules and when to break them. A little singing here, harvesting Black Star petals there, knowing when to move on to the next Ward—we get by. You? You’ll just break them and get caught. Probably without even knowing what you did.”
“But working for House Basilisk will change that?”
“It’s your best bet.” Helena considered him. “All the Houses struggle against each other, but Basilisk, they’re the most willing to undertake, how should I put it, ah—nefarious tactics. You know. Like stealing shipments coming into the city, or hitting other Houses for their goods.”
Feiyan nodded reluctantly. “Which means they’ll hire anyone desperate enough to risk taking part in one of their schemes.”
Scorio frowned. “But what’s to stop the other Houses from infiltrating them with their own agents?”
“Who’s to say it doesn’t happen?” asked Helena. “But Bastion’s not big enough for true anonymity. The crews that’ll hire out are known quantities. They operate knowing they risk being killed if they’re caught. But nobody takes it personally. One month they might hire out to Basilisk, the next to Chimera. Long as you don’t get caught.”
“So why should I approach Basilisk?” asked Scorio.
“Because they’ll realize you’re trouble and not care,” said Feiyan flatly. “And they’ll give you a job. One that will probably get you killed, sure, but it’ll be better than nothing.”
“Or you could try begging,” said Helena, shrugging one rangy shoulder. “Learn enough to avoid being noticed, and spend the rest of your life on the verge of starvation, moving around, making no friends so you can’t be betrayed…”
“You’d love it,” said Feiyan with a dark smile.
“Sounds great. What about going into the caves? Finding more treasure like that sunphire?”
“Sure,” said Feiyan, not bothering to hide her sarcasm. “A fine way to be rich for a year and then get yourself killed. The deeper you go into the ruins, the more dangerous it is. Fiends, horrors, the Nightmare Lady…”
“A Great Soul could do it,” said Helena thoughtfully.
“But why would a Great Soul be scavenging in the first place?” asked Feiyan.
“Point,” agreed Helena.
“Plus I’m not a Great Soul,” said Scorio, half in jest, half in protest.
They both simply stared at him.
“So work for Basilisk, then,” he said, sitting up. “They pay well?”
“No,” said Feiyan. “But they do pay. If you’re good, it can be a living.”
“And I won’t stand out?”
“You’ll stand out,” continued Feiyan. “But you’ll be known as a Basilisk operative, and folks will give you wide berth. You’ll find your place in society. Not in the cracks like we live, or under everyone’s feet like a beggar, but…” She trailed off, glanced at Helena.
“But as someone everyone will be willing to take octs from,” continued the fiddler. “Right up till you make a mistake and die. Which is what everyone will be counting on. A problem that’ll take care of itself.”
“Charming,” said Scorio.
Feiyan smirked. “Welcome to Bastion.”
“But you’ll have to be careful with your questions,” said Helena.
“Even if I work for Basilisk?”
“Especially if you work for Basilisk. Your best bet will be to just keep your trap shut. Even if you don’t know what’s going on. Just pretend you do. And eventually, you will.”
“Won’t work,” said Feiyan. “You’re doomed.”
“Oh, stop,” said Helena, half-heartedly throwing a pebble at her. “Can’t you even pretend to be nice?”
“No,” said Feiyan, turning away so the pebble missed her.