“So Abentha said.” Dola crossed her beefy forearms over her chest. “But you’re assuming the White Queen gives a damn about us, and that she’ll remember who you are.”
Scorio grinned. “Better odds than what you’ll be facing. And if I’m wrong?” He looked around the listening crowd. “Then go march to your deaths. Yell and sing songs to your heart’s content. Get yourselves that glorious footnote in the history of our city. But if you wait. If you give me just ten days, I’ll speak with a Charnel Duchess and tell her what’s happening here. And if I can rouse her interest, her pity, her sense of justice? You’ll see me standing by her side as the Autocrators all bend knee and listen to her judgment.”
Leonis leaned down to Lianshi, hand covering his mouth. “He’s good.”
Dola frowned.
Scorio leaped past her onto the lip of the fountain and turned to face the crowd. “Why should you listen to me? I’m wearing the robes of a Great Soul, aren’t I? I’ve eaten my fill each day in the Academy, been spoon-fed the finest elixirs, and not known a day of hardship in my life. Right?”
Grumbles, nods, narrowed eyes.
“Wrong. I was cast out on my first day and forced to survive with Nissa. Who vouches for me. Then I trained with the Nightmare Lady. Heard of her? She’s one of you, and she’s for me as well. Only after I saved Bastion with Sol did I gain readmittance to the Academy, and right away Praximar started scheming my downfall. But even with Dola’s help he didn’t manage. I came first in the Gauntlet run, and you better believe every Autocrator wanted me then. But damn them. I don’t want their lies. I don’t want their way of living. So my friends and I turned them down and took to the streets, where we killed an Enforcer for slaughtering people just like you. Just like me. And now here I am. Hunted and hounded, but willing to fight with you, for you, to make a change.”
Eyes had widened. Everybody stared, fascinated, rapt, even bemused.
Scorio slowly peeled off his white robe and held it up. “This is not who I am.” He dropped it on the ground, then reached for the Coal mana that suffused the air, thick and cloying and familiar as an old friend. Shoved it into his weary Heart, Ignited, and rose into his scaled form.
Power flooded his being. Wild energy, a sense of false invulnerability. He grew taller, his shoulders broadened, his waist whip-thin. Inhuman, scaled, with talons of burning white.
“This is who I am.” His voice echoed over the square as everyone shrank back. “I am no boy, no fledgling student. I am Scorio, once known as The Scourer, Lord of Nagaran, Master of the Black Tower, The Bringer of Ash and Darkness, the Shadow of Spurn Harbor, the Abhorred, Quencher of Hope, and Unmaker of Joy. I am Proscribed, I belong on the Red List, and am hated by the Academy. But more importantly, I denounce the lies told to us. And I tell you here and now that I’ll find my way to the White Queen’s side and make her listen to our case.”
He raised his hands and closed his burning talons into a fist. His words hovered in the air, then he allowed his Heart to burn out and released his scaled form, shrinking back to normal.
“If you let me. If you give me this chance.” He dropped his fist to his side. “It’s your choice.”
A stunned silence followed, a silence which was only broken by Dola’s lazy clapping.
“Pretty speech.” She grimaced and turned to her fellows. “I think the boy actually means what he says. So why not? We can give him ten days.”
“Revolutions are not hounds that can be whistled to heel,” said a balding man in crimson and black. “Or let loose from its kennel ten days hence.”
“Sure,” said Dola. “But we’ve enough clout to blunt it. We pull back our immediate people and the rest will follow. Everyone here knows I’m not afraid of a scrap. But if there’s a chance we can avoid going toe to toe with the Great Souls, well.” She smiled lazily. “Why not?”
Nissa gave a curt nod. “You all know who I am and what I’ve already done for our movement. You know who I represent and bring to the table. I’ve spoken with them and they approve of this course of action. It’s wiser and safer and has a higher chance of success. Like Scorio said, I vouch for him. If he says he can convince the White Queen, I say we give him ten days.”
Abentha grimaced. “Very well. It is a far-fetched plan, but it speaks volumes about our rebellion’s chances that it stands a greater chance of success. I agree.”
The others reluctantly signed on, and just like that Scorio realized he’d headed off the rebellion.
Tens of thousands of people now had a chance to avoid being massacred.
Dola stared up at where he yet stood on the fountain’s lip. “You’ve ten days, Scorio. Ten days to reach the White Queen, and if we don’t hear from you both by then we’ll take to the streets and bring the whole city down with us.”
“Agreed,” said Scorio. “I’ll be back before then.”
“Then it’s decided.” Abentha clapped her hands. “Send runners. Pull the barricades down. Disperse the columns. Get the word out. We wait. The Houses will know ten more days of peace.”
Orders were given and messengers raced forth, moving in all directions. The feverish tension that had gripped the square abated, and slowly those present began to trickle away.
“Not bad,” said Jova as Scorio leaped down from the fountain. “You even got my heart beating. But how exactly are we getting to the Fiery Shoals? We haven’t even spoken with Manticore.”
“Good question,” said Lianshi. “We can neither afford nor risk the whale ships. Which means traveling overland.”
“First we need to get out of Bastion,” said Naomi. “And don’t forget that half our class is still hunting us. We can’t just stroll out of here.”
“Problem?” asked Dola, stepping up beside them.
“No problem,” said Scorio with a false smile. “Just figuring out how best to execute our plan.”
“Hmm.” Dola studied him. “You do have a plan, however?”
“Of course,” said Scorio, and forced a laugh. “You think I’d make that kind of promise without knowing how I’d pull it off? We’re all set. No worries.”
“Good.” Dola clapped him on the shoulder hard enough to almost buckle his knees. “Then you’d best get to it.”
“Right,” said Scorio, and inhaled deeply. “Fiery Shoals, here we come.”
Interlude - The White Queen
Nova gazed out over the black iron balcony at the lava field below. Noxious fumes rose from its turgid surface, dark patterns oozing and stretching over the dull orange glow. Even from this height she could feel the heat, the air warping constantly, making the surrounding obsidian cliffs shimmer.
There was a beauty to it, one that had taken her years to appreciate. A stark, dangerous allure to the luminous plumes of lava that fell from the great spouts set across the breadth of the castle. To the brutal architecture of the Fiery Shoals itself, black iron, geometric lines, impregnable force.
“Alexander is pressing for an answer,” said Desiree from the council table that ran the length of the echoing room. “He doesn’t appreciate uncertainty.”
Nova raised her gaze to the trees that grew along the rough tops of the cliffs, their roots sinking into the black rock, their pink petals glowing with a bewitching luminescence.
She heard Desiree shifting through papers. “Grunsch sent word that the retreat from LastRock is going poorly. We are fortunate the Blood Ox chose to consolidate his control of the citadel instead of outright pursuit, but the Great Souls are divided and consumed by political infighting. He demands—politely—that you come to establish order.”