The Rebels of Gold (Loom Saga #3)(123)
“Then learn how.” Cain moved into his field of vision. “Xin needs, deserves, an Oji who will celebrate this time and lead with all his heart.” Cain shook his head, his tone becoming even more serious. “All of Nova, Cvareh. Not just Xin, but all of Nova needs you now. We are fractured and bleeding, and we need a Dono who will unite us.”
“You’re right,” Cvareh admitted.
“We need someone who knows the Fenthri and is willing to work with them but still defend Nova’s interests,” Cain continued as if Cvareh hadn’t just agreed with everything he’d said. “Someone who can carry on Petra’s vision. Someone who has the esteem of our House. We—”
“I know, Cain.” Nothing the man had said was untrue. But the whole of it had made Cvareh realize that he was not the only one who fit such a description.
“I will be here for you. It will be my supreme honor to serve as Ryu to the Dono.” His friend squeezed his shoulder in a sympathetic display.
“Don’t be so sure.”
“What?” Cain’s brow was back to furrowing. Cvareh could almost feel the panic rising from him.
Cvareh merely smiled at his friend’s confusion. “This is a tumultuous time, Cain. Kings are dying left and right…”
Florence
Dear W.W.,
Shannra tells me that I’m writing to a ghost. Fear not, I corrected her that the proper term is “Wraith.”
You’ve been very good at not being found, this past year. I can only presume it was intentional when all of my efforts to leave no stone unturned left me empty-handed.
At first, I thought perhaps you were worried about my focus not being properly on my duties as Vicar Revolver. I could only imagine though, given the speed at which I’ve seen the hall and refinery rebuilt, that such was impossible. A distracted vicar does not make for an effective one. And, if I may be so bold, I’ve been fairly effective.
So, I’m only left to think that you do not want to be found. I attempted to corner Helen on the matter, but she was only slightly less slippery to get a hold of than you. It seems she’s settling into her assumed role of rebuilding Mercury Town as well. Perhaps a little too well. (Do not make me send Revolvers down there to clean up any messes.)
In any case, now that I’ve come to terms with such a realization, I’m left with only one final course of action—this letter.
We are women of action, you and I, not words. Thus, I’ve toiled over what to put here for weeks now. You are aware, I am sure, of the overall state of affairs in Loom. And judging from the recent report of the “Queen of Wraith’s Grand Return to Dortam,” I think you’re keenly aware of the status in our city. (It’s a bit of a flashy title to re-assume, don’t you think? For a woman who supposedly died in the battles on Nova.)
I digress, yet again… I want you to know, if nothing else, that I have looked for you. That I will continue to keep my eyes out for a woman in white at every corner I pass, every junction I cross. You, my teacher, my mentor, one of the most talented women I have ever known, will always have a place with me.
And should you never walk through the open door I’m leaving for you, then so be it; know you have my thanks. This runaway Raven will forever be in your debt as the woman who pulled her shaking and scared from the Underground, and once more, showed her the light.
Sincerely,
F.
P.S. I am truly sorry about what happened to Cvareh. However, if you said or did anything to ensure Cain would be so open to keeping positive relationships with Loom, I thank you.
Arianna
The moon peered down through the clouds onto the streets of Dortam.
The light was bright enough to cut one’s shadow into the cobblestone of the streets, wet and glistening with the night’s chill. It was the same moon that had borne witness to the rise of the White Wraith years ago, and was now the sole member of the audience witnessing the rebirth following the metamorphosis of that lone creature.
Arianna darted between back alleys, the hem of her freshly-tailored coat flapping against her legs.
Two Revo grunts were on her tail. They had all the persistence of fresh journeymen let out for the first time to “keep the peace.” Yes, they were determined, but Arianna wasn’t dissuaded.
Even as rubble and ruin, she knew the pathways and side-streets better than anyone. The farther she got from the center of Dortam, the rougher and more broken things became. It was an area that was still mostly untouched by time—a holdover from the days of Dragons.
She pushed deeper and deeper, knowing she’d lose them eventually. They were already tired of wasting ammunition by taking cheap shots at nothing.
This part of the city had been far enough away from the epicenter of the Revolvers’ self-destruction that it had been spared from total ruin. Dortam was a target now; the bullseye was the new metropolis, springing from the ashes of the old. Out from that center was ruin, still in the process of being rebuilt. Further still, a peace of Arianna’s heart would always live—Old Dortam. Buildings here jutted at odd angles and collapsed rooftops sagged holes between persistent walls. It was the city of Dortam’s criminals and less-than-desirables. It was home for her.
She waited out of sight, tucked in a shaded alcove, listening carefully to the footsteps of the Revos slow. They cursed aloud, debated further pursuit, and eventually decided to let her go. Smart men, Arianna applauded. After all, she so hated killing talent. The Revolvers had little and less of it, in their present circumstances.