The crowd of rebels clustered around the stage. Saia could see there weren’t many of them as she had initially thought. About the entire population of Suimer, which was one of the smallest villages of the mountain. Thinking about them reminded her of Zeles, and her worry spread like wildfire across her viss.

The first one to speak was Nuras.

“This morning we clarified our position with the elders. They agreed to fulfill their side of the pact until all the twenty ships are ready.”

By the cheer of the crowd, Saia realized it was a fairly debated point. She imagined it was a consequence of Serit’s meeting with the elders, when their pact with the rebels had been questioned.

“As you know,” Vanan began talking, bringing an amplifier to his mouth, “We’re ready to act tonight, despite our plan being brought forward of a week. Not the end of the festival anymore, but the start.”

“But everything’s in place,” Nuras continued. “We’ll activate the pattern and save Iriméze from its senseless divisions.”

The crowd cheered. Nuras seemed better at rallying it than Vanan was.

“Aren’t you curious, though?” he said. “We’ve worked on it so long, we should test it, right?”

“Who’s up for a demonstration?” Vanan added, earning another cheer.

The same two people who had carried the disk of wood out of the door heaved it so that everyone could see it, then set it down at the center of the stage. Nuras and Vanan stepped on top of it, a few feet of distance from each other. Nuras’s eagle eyes robbed him of any expressions, but Vanan’s grin was enough for both.

“Activate the pattern,” he yelled.

Five rebels stepped onto the platform and knelt down in a circle, placing their hands on a spot near the border. From that distance and without expanding her domain, Saia could only imagine the viss that was flowing out of them and into the pattern. The two men tensed, probably crossed by the same sensation, and almost immediately relaxed. The crowd, fallen into a surprised silence, exploded in cheers when Nuras raised his arms in a triumphant gesture.

“Let's test it,” he repeated.

Vanan jumped down among the rebels. It was probably a planned stunt, because six people grabbed him and walked toward the walls of the city. Toward a spot, Saia noticed after leaning forward to look past the door, that was covered in huge holes.

“What are they doing, now?” she asked.

“Dropping him down,” Serit said, their voice almost a sigh.

The crowd lurched forward when it happened, everyone following the same instinct of grasping his body before he could fall, even if he had already disappeared beyond the border. An imperceptible trembling of the hideout followed that sudden gesture, reminding everyone of how high they were flying. The people approached the hole with caution, both to avoid new movements and not to fall in themselves.

“This place is almost as low as the threshold,” Serit explained. “He should have rained by now.”

A dark shape emerged from the top of the city: one of the smaller ships, with a figure standing on top. The crowd cheered when they recognized Vanan.

“Or maybe not,” Serit added with a bitter smile.

Saia watched as the man jumped down, the rebels grabbing him again.

“As I told you, he found out how to create the link the same way your monks did. Or similar enough, anyway,” Serit added, retreating from the doorway into the room like a wounded animal. “The pattern connects the people standing on it. Regardless of who they are, whether humans, tanhata or even spirits, their viss will flow toward the nearest shilvé to provide them with the viss they need. This way, they will never feel the urge to rain again, and will stay solid past the rain threshold.”

“This is exactly what you wanted to achieve,” Saia commented. “So why do you want to stop them? You're jealous he completed the research and you didn’t?”

Serit recoiled at that.

“No,” they said, even if it was clear Saia’s guess wasn’t far from their feelings. “It's because they want to activate a giant pattern like that with the entire population of Iriméze inside. Or most of it, at least.”

“That would solve your problems, though,” she pointed out. “Your representatives said that raining is dangerous.”

“It was them,” Serit yelled, pointing at the cheering hideout outside. “They captured Izha after he rained, filled his viss with fake memories and sent him back. There's no secret weapon, they just wanted the population to greet them as their saviours once they publicly announced what they did. And for no one to fall to their death in the meantime.”

Saia reflected on it.

“I still don't see what the problem is.”

Serit groaned in frustration and crouched next to the wall, hands grabbing their loose hair.

“Please, close your ears,” a loud voice came from the outside.

Saia looked out: a human was speaking into an amplifier, while Nuras stood in front of Vanan again. The fake birdguard was holding something between his plumed fingers. Saia recognized the rain whistle.

The shilvé in the crowd pressed their palms against their ears, and some humans did too, laughing.

“Serit…” Saia called them, but it was too late.

Nuras brought the whistle to his beak and emitted a rasping sound. Saia realized it wasn’t easy for him to blow out air, since he didn’t have lips anymore. Still, the raspy wheezing became a squeal. She realized she’d never heard that sound before. It was less annoying than a regular whistle.

The crowd held its breath. Some shilvé in the first rows doubled over, momentarily destabilized by the sound despite it being aimed at Vanan only. He kept standing with a wide grin on his face, opening his arm to the side to signal that he was fine.

Serit was startled by the sound, but if it had any effect on their body, they didn’t show it.

“Altering someone’s body forever is not a joke.”

She emitted a laugh, even if she felt no hilarity.

“I know, believe me.”

Serit stared at her for a bit.

“Vanan has good intentions,” they said, lowering their eyes. “But he’s a bit idealistic. He thinks he’s solving two problems at once: saving the shilvé from the urge to rain, and forcing them to consider the humans of the fourth level their peers. Nuras has a better grip on the consequences of their plans, but he’s ruthless. He knows they can’t achieve the peace between humans and shilvé without obtaining control of the city, and he’s ready to do anything to achieve that.”

Saia closed the door to cut out the cheers outside.

“Explain.”

“The link forces the shilvé to feel the strongest emotions of the human who feeds them viss. This forced empathy won’t be accepted by everyone. At the same time, the humans won’t be able to use magic again. Which wouldn’t be a problem if the link was permanent, but it can be broken. If one of the two people it connects dies, they’ll revert back to keeping their viss and having to rain. Sooner or later, people will figure it out. They might accept their new situation, but at least some of them will rebel to it. They’ll try to murder each other, split into two factions. The city might collapse, and not just at the social level. You saw how delicate the flying system is.”

Saia nodded, even if it wasn’t a question.

“So they have to gain power too, and keep it long enough for the new situation to become normal. They’ve deactivated most of the weapons and built or got their hands on some working ones. And they have the whistles.”

Their voice broke a bit as they said the last words. They passed a hand through their hair.

“They will use it against the guards. Also, to identify the shilvé who escaped the pattern or killed their human. They can use it against the other cities, once they’re done with Iriméze.”

“Do you know all of this for sure or you’re just guessing?”

Serit kept quiet for a bit.

“I haven’t seen Nuras much, apart from the public speeches. When he comes here to talk to Vanan, he’s very careful about the words he uses. But I’ve picked up on things.”

Saia reflected on their words. Since they’d mentioned Iriméze’s flying system, she couldn’t shake off the images of the humans giving up their viss, how tired they looked, and all for the tiny hope of being welcomed by the city they’ve lived in for their entire lives.

“Things need to change. You do realize that, right?” she said. “Hilon was a bad person long before she betrayed you.”

“I know,” they said, a lot more forcefully than necessary. “I think I always knew. But she chose me as her pupil, and I… I guess I brushed it aside. Still, I don’t think these rebels should be allowed to do as they please.”

They were staring at the floor. Suddenly, their eyes widened and looked up at Saia.

“They’re like your monks.”

She was so taken aback she didn’t know what to answer.

“I don’t know the details of what happened between you and them,” Serit continued. “But I know you killed a goddess, and they surely didn’t transform you into one by their own volition. They never do, unless it’s to replace someone.”

Saia regained the use of her voice. Her viss was buzzing with indignation.

“What does any of this have to do with them?”

“You think the rebels are like you, right? You think whatever they’re going to do will make the city better than it is now. But they’re not. They’re like your monks. They’re going to take the power and make all of the decisions, and we’ll be left to deal with them, for better or for worse.”

“The monks let a goddess torture my village for more than a century,” she yelled. “That’s not the same thing at all.”

“Well, I can not guarantee the rebels will do the same. Maybe they’ll be better than the representatives ever were. But they’ll certainly be in a position to do what they want undeterred, and even your monks understand that it’s not a good idea.”

Saia thought of how she’d left Aili and Zeles to take care of her people, without shards to control them. She hoped they weren’t in too much danger.

“You’re making me waste time.”

“What about this, then,” Serit said, standing. “The entire reason you’re stuck here is that I wanted to change things for the children of viss. But you never showed me a speck of the understanding you’re showing to the rebels. Why?”

Saia felt her viss flare.

“Are you kidding…”

“Because,” they cut her off. “I was trying to make it happen at your expense. I was literally using you to reach my goals. And I’m sorry for that.”

“I really don’t care.”

Serit almost smiled at that, but had the decency to hold back.

“I know. But the rebels are doing the same to all the people they’re keeping stuck in bottles right now. They read their memories, in Izha’s case they even altered them. They killed one of their own after they were captured. They are already showing signs of not stopping short of anything to reach their goals.”

“Like Hilon?” she pointed out.

Serit sighed, but nodded.

“Like Hilon. Like me, and I guess like your monks too. But the decision is yours. You’re the only one who could stop them. If you trust them to make a good job of changing Iriméze and all the other cities, then I’ll tell you where to find your friend’s shard right now and we can go our separate ways. I mean, I’ll have to stay here, but you can leave.”

Saia was tempted to accept, more because she wanted the position of Aili’s shard than out of any desire of getting involved in the situation.

She shook her head.

“This is not fair. I don’t have anything to do with this.”

“That is not your choice anymore, I fear. You did help them after all, didn’t you?”

Saia thought about how she had damaged the weapons.

“That was your fault. If you hadn’t refused to help me…”

She stopped, realizing that dragging the discussion any longer was pointless. She couldn’t let the rebels take Iriméze, regardless of whether it was her fault or Serit’s or anyone else’s.

“What do we need to do?” she said instead.

She’d expected Serit to smile in triumph, but they became extremely serious, as if they were working on their research again.

“The pattern was drawn with the festival’s lights. Have you seen them?”

Saia thought back at the heaps of lights inside the crates. She remembered the rebels carrying them while entering the buildings at the fifth level, even if at the time she had thought it was just a disguise.

“Yes.”

“The wire that connects all of those lights can be used to carry viss. It’s a giant pattern sprawled across the fifth level, where people will gather tonight for the festival. It can reach down for two levels, to include most of the ones who won’t attend.”

“So we just need to destroy it?”

“Not that simple. I’ll explain while we go.”

They opened the door and looked outside.

“They’re celebrating. We can steal a ship while they’re distracted.”

Saia focused on Nuras, still on the stage that was surrounded by his followers.

“Go ahead. I’ll reach you once I’m finished.”

She left before they could say anything else. She dived into the celebrating crowd and returned to her normal look, counting on the mass of people around her to keep her unusual amount of viss hidden. She needed to be careful, not to tip off Nuras about what was happening. But she was far too angry to be too careful.

Once she was close enough to the stage, she started running, pushing people to the side. Nuras interrupted whatever speech he was making, noticing a movement in the crowd. Saia pushed more viss into her legs and jumped.

Someone fired their weapon, but she deviated the darts without bothering to change trajectory. She landed just in front of Nuras and pushed him down before he could reach for the shard. She expanded her domain and found it inside one of his pockets, already forgotten after he got rid of her.

She took it, and immediately felt calmer. Whatever happened from that moment on, nobody could have stopped her from afar. She stood, pulling Nuras to his feet.

“You come with me,” she told him among the panicked screams of the people and guards.

His viss was buzzing with all the fear his birdlike face couldn’t show.

“You’ve got what you needed, right? I'm sorry for pushing you out of the city, but you are free, there’s no need to…”

She dragged him away. The guards all around the stage hesitated, afraid to hit their boss by mistake.

“Keep going,” Nuras yelled at them. “Go on with the plan. Don't wait for me.”

Saia finally reached the ship beside which Serit was waiting. It wasn't difficult to convince the crew to let them on board. Nuras’s silent presence and a demonstration of Saia’s powers was all it took.

She was surprised to find a familiar face among them.

“Ménon,” she called out.

The young woman ducked a bit, as if she could hide her head in her shoulders.

“That explains why the rebels knew we were going to Filsun’s house,” Serit mused out loud. “But why did you join them?”

She fussed with the handles sticking out from the pipes, avoiding both of their gazes.

“I hated how mom was treated,” she said with the thinnest voice. “And I wanted to visit her side of the family down on earth.”

Saia sat down on one of the stools bolted to the center of the ship, mental exhaustion weighing down on her where the physical one couldn’t anymore. She hoped she was doing the right thing. Serit’s words about the rebels not stopping short of anything to reach their goals resounded deeply with her. She risked becoming like them, in the long run. She’d never, ever regret her actions back at the mountain, but being right once didn’t mean being right forever.

She needed to set herself aside from the monks and the rebels. Her plan of stealing the energy stored inside the mountain and redistributing it among the villages people was incomplete. There was something else she needed to do first, as scary as it sounded.

She couldn’t wait to talk to Aili about it, once she was safe.