Winterveil (21 page)

More shouts rose up. Silas's name was mentioned again, and Kate heard her own name caught in the clamor of the crowd's cries. One woman stepped forward from the front row to challenge the councilman, and the wardens did not move to stop her. She was wearing a neat red dress, one that Kate had seen just a few days before, during her time in the City Below, and she spoke with the authority of a leader.

“My name is Laina,” she said. “I represent a community that lives deep beneath these streets. Silas Dane sent messengers to my caverns, seeking help for this city. His words brought my people here. We rose up while many of your own people ran—and you expect the city to return to the place of privilege, greed, and lies that it was before?”

“We do, of course, appreciate the underdwellers' assistance, but—”

“My people spilled enemy blood alongside your own men and women,” said Laina. “We came here in trust. The City Below has its own concerns. Our tunnels are being flooded, and our people have been forced to hide from the wardens, who should serve
every
citizen of Albion, not just those with the coins to pay for it. You have proved that Fume cannot stand alone. None of us can stand alone. We are stronger together. Silas Dane saw that. You branded him a traitor, yet I hear his name being called out as a hero.”

“Silas Dane has been acting upon the word of the High Council in this matter,” said the councilman.

“I find that very hard to believe,” said Laina. “And where is Kate Winters? The girl you also named a traitor? I have heard her name spoken here tonight. I want to hear from people who did not hide behind the blades of their protectors. You are wasting your breath offering lies that no one believes. Step aside, and let those who actually know something speak.”

21

A NEW PATH

T
he crowd called for Silas. The councilman protested, but his words were drowned out by the shouts. The last time Kate had stood in that square with a gathering so loud, many of them had been urging Da'ru Marr to spill her uncle Artemis's blood, but this was a very different crowd.

Silas waited in his seat. He would not be drawn out so easily. He left time for the High Council to consider the gravity of what was happening around it. Soon the councilman was forced to retreat to his seat like a mouse to its hole, and Laina waited patiently beside the podium for Silas and Kate to answer her call. When Silas stood up, a few people applauded, but most stared in silence as he stood upon the city square's steps, as strong and immovable as any of Fume's statues, and let Kate walk down the steps in front of him.

Every warden present stood to attention as Kate and Silas approached. Silas's last memories of that place were of battling wardens who had attacked him at Da'ru Marr's command. Their welcome this time could not have been more different, but he did not take his place upon the podium; he stood beside it instead. He was a soldier, not a politician. He did not need to play the High Council's game. All he had to do was change the rules.

“The blood has not yet dried upon our blades,” he said, letting his voice resound from the distant walls of the square. “And already the High Council is lying to us. Tonight Albion was shown a glimpse of a secret it has not seen for centuries. The veil has been hidden from you for too long. These men have used knowledge of it as bait to taunt the Continental leaders into more violent and daring attacks, culminating in the battle we have witnessed today. They will lie to you. They will encourage you to follow the same path that has always served them well in the past, but they will not serve you as leaders should. Fume was never meant for us. We have built upon land set aside for the dead, and those foundations crumbled tonight.

“The souls you have seen are not your enemies. They are our ancestors. They are the ones who helped us save this city. They, along with the warden officers who stood against the enemies' blades, the people of the City Below who answered our call, and the bravery of every one of you who remained here, standing at their side. Even the prisoners of Feldeep, who owe this country nothing but hatred, have played their part. Edwin Gorrett is not a hero. He supplied information to the enemy because he was one of them. He is a Blackwatch agent, who managed to deceive us all. But these people . . .” Silas walked over to the group of Skilled kneeling on the floor. “They have done nothing against you. They came here to help you. They should not be imprisoned for their trouble. Each of us has suffered in our own way, and some of us have done things of which we are not proud.” He cast a pointed look at Greta. “We will live to be punished by our consciences for that.”

He turned to address the High Council directly. “You have murdered this country. Your actions and those of your predecessors have torn it apart. The invaders in our lands are retreating. Fume is burning, and we are still here. Albion is not finished yet, but you are.”

He signaled for the wardens to release the Skilled. Their hands were untied, and they stood up, facing a crowd that did not know what to make of them. Most had never encountered any of the Skilled in their lives, but Greta and her group held their heads high, refusing to look vulnerable or weak.

“I am here to call on everyone present today to let this be a new beginning,” Silas continued. “We have shown what can be done when we come together. We now know what this city needs. It needs people who are not afraid to do what is right. People like this girl.” He pointed to Kate. “Kate Winters has sacrificed far more than any of us to keep Albion safe. She, and people like her, are this city's future. We can rebuild Fume, not for the rich and their opulent lives but in honor of the dead who still exist within these walls. The High Council has led us to this point in our history; now we shall carry ourselves the rest of the way. Albion will be strong again, but it needs better people than these men to lead the way.”

None of the High Council spoke. The wardens were no longer under its members' control, and it had no defense against Silas's argument. The crowd was cheering Silas's words. All the councilmen could do was sit and watch everything they had schemed and bribed for be pulled apart with every word that Silas spoke.

“I propose that we create a new council,” said Silas, “one whose members truly represent all the people of Albion. Our army should be filled with soldiers who want to defend our country and are trained to defend it, rather than those who are stolen from their homes and sent unprepared to their deaths. This is our chance. Today we can learn from our past and build a new future. I will no longer place my hand and my sword at the will of these men.”

He took out his sword, laid it on the ground, and took a step back. “My weapon is yours,” he said. “This country is on its knees, but we can restore it again, together. I will fight for you and for Albion. Albion needs you to stand with me.”

Someone in the crowd began to applaud, and Kate spotted Edgar standing up in his seat, clapping enthusiastically. Tom stood up beside him, and soon almost everyone in the city square was standing, cheering, celebrating Fume's survival, and sharing the hope that life could be different. The sound carried to the ears of every person and spirit in the city's streets. It rang from the towers and echoed beneath the surface of the Sunken Lake, but no one was there to see the waters of the lake shrink back to their former level. No one witnessed the shades at its edges stepping back into the buildings surrounding it and fading into the ancient walls.

When the noise died down, everyone waited for Silas to speak again. When he did, it was to give one command. “There are fires to put out and buildings to save. Fume has protected us. Let us return the favor.”

At those words, people began to leave the square, filled with renewed purpose after the exhausting events of the night. The wardens grouped the disgraced councilmen together, ready to transport them to a safe place until their future was formally decided, and Laina and Greta approached Kate and Silas as the seats around them emptied quickly.

“You may not know me, but I have heard of you,” Laina said to Kate, clasping one of Kate's hands between both of her palms. “What has happened here is tragic, but if it allows my people to exist freely with the City Above, I welcome it as an opportunity.” She looked directly into Kate's eyes. “I can see that you have suffered. I hope, in time, your burden is lifted from you. Both of you. I hope you will find peace.”

“May the same be true for us all,” said Greta, her words clipped with impatience.

“I will support your plan for a new council,” Laina said to Silas. “But my people cannot remain here until our welcome to the surface is sincere. We have repairs of our own to make. We shall return when we are invited to speak as equals once again. I am sure you understand.”

“Of course,” said Silas. “Fume is built upon what lies beneath us.”

“In more ways than the High Council could appreciate,” said Laina. “Let us hope the goodwill between the Above and Below does not die when the sun rises. Many good intentions can wither in the light of day.”

She returned to a small group of bloodied guards who were waiting for her, and Kate noticed that Greta's mouth was pinched, as if she were making a great effort not to share what she really thought of the woman.

“In time the tunnels will dry out,” said Greta. “The streets will be clear of rubble, and this night will be a story we pass on to our grandchildren; but people will forget. They always forget the warnings of the veil, and we have forgotten how to ‘see' the way our ancestors once did.
You
have remembered,” she said to Kate. “You have done more in a few weeks than I could ever hope to achieve in my lifetime. I am aware there has been some . . . unpleasantness between us in the past. Distrust has lived on both sides. Perhaps, now, we can begin again.”

“I'm not going back to the cavern with you,” said Kate, sensing the unspoken point behind Greta's words.

“You belong with us,” said Greta. “You can work with us. Perhaps we can teach each other.”

“No. I'm not going back there.”

“But you will at least stay in the city?”

“As long as the museum is still standing, Kate will always be welcome to stay with me,” said Silas.

Greta's brow furrowed. “I have seen what you can do,” she said to Kate. “A gift like that should not be wasted. It should be passed on.”

“That is for me to decide, not you,” said Kate. “If any of the Skilled want to speak to me, they can. But not yet. Not today.”

Greta looked sour; yet, she had no choice but to accept Kate's decision. “We will speak again. I may not have your Skill, but I know a veil-touched soul when I see one. I hope it does not lead you down a dark path.”

“I think we have already discovered where dark paths can lead,” said Silas. “Dalliah Grey's life ended tonight. It is our responsibility to never again walk the path that she chose.”

“When you are ready, Kate, the Skilled will welcome you,” said Greta. “But I must ask. Do you still have the book?”

Kate felt
Wintercraft
in her pocket and moved unconsciously to keep it out of Greta's reach. “I have it.” Kate could not tell if Greta was relieved or disturbed to hear that news, but her answer was enough to make the older woman step back and end their conversation.

“Then I look forward to our future,” Greta said curtly. “Let us hope it will be better than our past.”

The rest of the Skilled followed Greta into the melting crowd, and as soon as they were out of sight, Kate dared relax a little. “I don't know what to say to them,” she admitted. “I don't trust any of them.”

“And that is all you need to say,” said Silas. “The Skilled will find their own way. This is your life. You do not owe them anything.”

As Kate walked back to meet Edgar and Tom at the carriage, Silas stopped to talk to a small group of wardens and give orders for the High Council's detainment. No one watching would have been aware of the torment that still plagued his soul. No one except Kate.

Kate knew the true cost of what Silas had sacrificed for her. She knew the place where his soul was sealed in the cold and the dark, and she could still see a shadow of that suffering within his eyes. Silas had rallied the city when no one else could. He had protected it, even when branded a traitor, and he had given the most precious part of himself to keep its people safe. He had not told the crowd any of that. He was happy to set the wheels of change in action and have others steer it along the way.

As the carriage rattled its way toward the museum that was Silas's home, Kate could hear the shades of Fume whispering to one another, like wind swirling between the city's ancient stones. She could feel the stirring of dormant life within the trees and the fluttering of birds chased from their roosts, searching for a place to settle upon the rooftops. Even in its darkest day, Albion was filled with life. The air trembled with it. Energy rang from the earth and moved through the smoke: the essence of the living world that no other breathing soul could see.

Kate owed Silas everything. Silas would never see the world the beautiful way she did. He would live an endless life, his soul trapped in the horrors of the black, forever fighting against terror and madness. Only she knew the full truth of what he had given up for her and for Albion, and she would never forget that sacrifice. Kate could feel faint echoes of the torment twisting behind Silas's gray eyes as he drove the horses on. She had glimpsed his true spirit that day. Now it was torn forever. She had left him alone in the dark.

 

The following weeks and months were set to become defining moments in the course of Albion's history. The country was standing on the brink of a new era, along with all the uncertainty, difficulties, and triumphs that entailed. It had lost an entire day to the timelessness of the veil. To the eyes of anyone beyond the shore, the whole country had fallen still for many hours as its people were overcome by shadows. The dawn that had broken after the veil's fall was the dawn of a completely new day, but no one would recognize those missing hours for many days to come.

The ancient spirits of Fume would watch the rebuilding, the lower streets would begin to be restored, and damaged towers would be repaired. Funerals would be held for all those who had not survived, including Artemis Winters, whom Kate buried in the same grave as her great-grandfather. She did not think it would be right to bury Artemis in the family crypt beneath the Winters tower. Artemis would have wanted to be near the sky.

Kate and Edgar cleared rooms in the upper levels of the old museum to claim as their own, while Silas continued living in his own dark space deep beneath the main floors, letting his crow fly freely around the corridors and streets, watching over Fume's people. Edgar's brother returned to the Skilled to continue his early training, and Laina and Greta became regular visitors to the museum, where discussions over the creation of the new council continued for months.

Under Silas's direct command, the wardens would soon reinstate safe routes between Fume and the nearest towns and begin reconnecting Albion's settlements as they had been in the past. Work upon the city would continue for many years, but repairing the country's broken way of life would take even longer. Albion's people had grown suspicious of one another over the generations, but as the wardens' harvests stopped and the Night Train was left to rust and fall into distant memory, the fear of war with the Continent would die down to a whisper and towns would begin to make contact with one another again.

Kate would watch Edgar become a formal officer of the new wardens in a ceremony held in the charred courtyard of what had once been the High Council's chambers, while the men who had made up that council would be driven from the city—leaving their dark mark upon the history of a country on the threshold of change.