Wern, Fir of Marla: 33 Xiven

The secret attic of 870521 Vidridian looked as if someone took a notebook, tore out all the pages, and threw them around on the floor to make everything look like a nonsensical mess. Kayin and Dhekk, however, crawled on the floor, putting pieces of paper together, making connections and fervidly agreeing on theories.

“Okay, walk me through our points,” Dhekk said as he held a paper and piece of charcoal. “I’m going to put them all here.” Kayin touched each of the relevant books and papers as he listed them:

“Emperor Xiven started officially ruling 33 years ago by assembling a small group and assassinating Empress Thalia. And then he—”

“Motive, Kayin,” reminded Dhekk.

“Right.” He twisted around to read from another paper. “So Empress Thalia wanted to restore knowledge that Empress D’Accorda destroyed, and right after she made a law that forced nothing-havers and people with Cigam to be equal, there was a coup. Her five closest advisers killed her in her sleep, announced the very next morning that a new leader would rise as Emperor Xiven, and the building collapsed, killing everyone.”

“What does that lead you to believe?” asked Dhekk with a leading tone. As if he wasn’t the one to come up with this theory in the first place to send Kayin down this rabbit hole of research.

“That Xiven was either an adviser or someone the advisers knew. And, based on how several, sudden, quakes killed members of Empress Thalia’s family the previous years, I think Xiven had the ability to move the pressure beneath the surface of Akri. Or, that someone close to him had the ability—which I think is more likely.”

“Not quite where I was going,” Dhekk murmured, shrugging. “I mean personality. Why did he do this? Stuff that will make you positively identify him when you meet him.”

“Oh. Um….” Kayin set the paper he currently held down onto another pile, frowning. “I’m stuck on that. All of these disasters happened after laws were passed to bring up people without Cigam, but this one—” Kayin pointed to a thin, outdated book of laws. “Not all of the laws passed trying to make Cigam a balanced right were argued with quakes. I thought he was a supremacist, but I’m—wouldn’t that mean he’d do something to try and make people think Cigam and non-Cigam should be separate? Try to mimic godlike responses? Like this one, the Marriage Equality Decree, where people could marry no matter their ability. I would think that he’d hate that, but nothing happened. No quakes. Though—okay, that did happen later in Empress Thalia’s reign, so maybe he was biding time?” That sounded wrong. All of this sounded wrong. But he wanted to bring up the other possibilities, no matter how timid, so that Dhekk would at least listen to the one he felt had the most promise. As an afterthought, Kayin added, “And he undid it shortly after he started. And then re-did it for some reason.”

“Let’s move onto Xiven’s actual rule,” suggested Dhekk over the sound of charcoal scratching against parchment.

“Oh! I have a theory on this stuff, his patterns!” Kayin announced proudly, maybe a little too loud. He wiggled on his legs, drawing several papers up to hand to Dhekk. “So you know how the first fifteen or so years he started, he was an iron fist? Martial rule, lots of death penalty, all that? And then it changed.” He shoved another paper at Dhekk. “Not fast, but slowly. No more public executions, more jail time instead. Actually pardoning people. And suddenly, he stopped regulating knowledge or economy, and started to get to basic rights.” After sifting through several loose pages of notes, Kayin found what he was looking for: several pages of his awful handwriting depicting patterns found in Xiven’s various decrees. “Ten years ago, that’s when he started to focus on individuals rather than collectives.” Dhekk stopped writing, and instead waited for Kayin. “These individual laws, look! ‘No person of Cigam Birth shall be owned by another.’ Then a few years later, it relaxed even more: ‘No person of Noble Status shall be owned by another.’ Those beliefs don’t just randomly change.”

Kayin didn’t quite expect Dhekk to be paying full attention, but he had his charcoal at the ready, watching, waiting; like he knew what Kayin was going to say, but he needed the physical words to write down.

“I think Xiven met someone,” Kayin continued, “and I think all of these changes are because of them.” Now Dhekk’s brows dropped from intrigue to annoyance.

“Alright, finish your thought. I thought we were on the same page, but—”

“I’m not done!” Kayin said excitedly. “So there was this period of things being the same, right? Of this pyramid-style taxation to make him more powerful and the poor less powerful, this Cigam hierarchy—and it lasted for a long time.” At this, Dhekk perked back up. “And then around ten years or so ago, everything shifted again. And think—ten years ago, what happened ten years ago?” He didn’t wait for Dhekk to return from his distant stare. The bags under his eyes, the way he slumped so much more. Kayin figured his exhaustion must have been getting the better of him. This was otherwise a great point, and so he continued, “Tidesa saw me. And I think when she saw me, she also saw a—a change! I think she saw her vision, because someone usurped. Xiven is a different person completely.”

That got Dhekk’s attention again. His brows relaxed, and he sat at attention again.

“Alright! We agree on something!” he announced. “I thought you were heading to some unrealistic romance plot.” He laughed. “So contrasting to everything we’ve got so far, what do you think?”

“We’re looking for someone who is old enough to assume power,” Kayin said, “but I don’t think we’re looking for an old, bigoted man. Someone younger for sure.”

Dhekk smiled. “What else can we assume of this ‘new’ Xiven?”

“That they don’t want to tarnish the old ways,” Kayin said slowly, “and that maybe there was a relation. This new Xiven knew the old Xiven, probably even liked them, but didn’t agree with them.” Dhekk nodded, scribbling down excitedly. “And I think,” Kayin continued, “that they would be a little more likely to share their disagreements about the old laws than others.”

This made Dhekk shake his head. “Alright, dial it back. If they are well-practiced in pretending to be Xiven for at least ten years now, let’s limit it to something we can control.”

Well, he was on a roll for a while. Kayin cleared his throat, forced himself to focus on other thoughts. Finally, he said the one theory he was most certain of, “They’ll be afraid of me.”

“Ah!” Another smile from Dhekk, this one slow, deliberate, showing as many teeth as possible. Pride? The warmth that spread in Kayin’s stomach was infectious, spread to his fingers and toes and made him race through every theory he’d thought of and trashed over the past few weeks. “Why are they afraid of you, Kayin?”

“Because—because they know I’ll succeed, at least at this. No matter the times they tried to get rid of me, I’m still here.” Despite his voice wavering, Kayin kept his gaze strong, ensuring Dhekk heard him.

“Go on.”

“I think, that no matter what, if Tidesa sees something, that it happens. I think that whoever this Xiven is, knows that. And I think they’re anticipating to meet me.”

Though the twinkle in Dhekk’s eye definitely showed a powerful smugness, a triumphant laugh Kayin shared, the man’s smile eventually faded.

“So, Kayin,” he started expectantly, “what’s our plan?”

Satern, Fir of Marla: 33 Xiven

The day of the gala, Dhekk didn’t make Kayin do laps around the district, or force him to memorize minute details about their environment everywhere they went. He didn’t force him to eat, even. They sat at the dining table in silence, watching the sky lighten through their open door. The buzz in the air was so intense, it was almost audible. Maybe they should have done their usual workout this morning, just to exhaust their muscles out of this consistent tension.

Instead they sat with their condensed notes in the center of the table, but neither of them moved to look at them.

“What would happen—” Kayin blurted suddenly, “if we don’t go to the gala? What if we don’t do what Tidesa’s vision says we do? Like we actively just—just don’t do it?” Dhekk didn’t move much aside from meeting Kayin’s eyes, waiting. “I just—I’m just wondering.”

“Nervous?” was Dhekk’s only response. Bored or tired, it was difficult to tell with that flat tone with his face looking that sullen. He just waited, not even half as anxious as Kayin.

“I just….” Kayin shrugged. “Things haven’t been going our way. And—and I don’t want anything bad to happen.” He wasn’t sure what to expect. Not comfort, but maybe some sort of logic that only Dhekk could see to ease this awful rolling in his stomach. But Dhekk looked away, and the feeling only got worse.

“You said it yourself,” said the man quietly, “whatever Tidesa sees, will happen anyway.” A simple, confident statement—something that should have been comforting. And yet….

“I have a bad feeling….” Childish to say, but still.

Dhekk rose from the table with a sigh, took his time stretching his neck, rolling his shoulders. Almost dismissively, he said, “That just means you noticed a difference in a pattern.” He turned away from Kayin to grab a small, wooden box off the stone counter, one of the few that held some of their staple daily snacks. “We should eat these before they go bad.” He dropped the box on the notes about Xiven; a few mushrooms bounced out and onto the table. Kayin squinted at them, but didn’t move to eat any.

“What difference in pattern?” he asked instead. “Ever since we got here, it’s just—it’s gotten worse. Even this week, even though we’re more prepared. And you—you have to notice it, too, right? You don’t even sleep.”

Dhekk let out a dry laugh as he lowered himself back into the chair, and grabbed a mushroom to separate the stem from the head, but didn’t eat them, just listened to the small pop sound it made.

“Don’t even sleep,” he repeated in a mutter. This sent a warm spark through Kayin’s stomach.

“Is there something you’re not telling me?”

“I don’t tell you a lot of things,” said Dhekk through an exaggerated sigh. He set the two pieces of the mushroom on the table, staring at them.

“Well—well—” Kayin sputtered, “start! Start telling me things! What difference in pattern—what’s making you not sleep?”

The man shrugged. “I sleep at all because of our preparations. Otherwise, probably wouldn’t get a wink.”

“You’re nervous?” asked Kayin, though he wasn’t convinced of his assumption.

“I’m watchful,” Dhekk corrected. As he grabbed another mushroom to dismember, Kayin furrowed his brows. What an odd thing to say.

“Watchful….” Dhekk didn’t respond to Kayin’s echo. “Do you think someone’s watching us?”

He laughed. “I know someone’s watching us.”

Kayin jumped in his chair, hand slamming on the table; the mushrooms danced at his force, but Dhekk didn’t seem to even notice. “What! You—you didn’t think to tell me?” he shouted.

“We made a pattern in our mornings, and patterns are noticed. You should have noticed the difference by now. We’ve been followed for about a week, now.” Pop, another mushroom disassembled. Kayin stared with wide eyes.

“Is—is it Xiven?”

Dhekk shook his head. “No. Just someone…watching. Waiting to see what we’ll do next.”

“Can you be sure?”

“Xiven would just kill us, I’d assume. We’ve just gathered some attention.” Maybe the sleep deprivation was getting to Dhekk’s head, because this was insane.

“What—shouldn’t—shouldn’t we have done something?”

“It’s not something to be concerned about this time.”

“How do you know?”

Now, though, Dhekk seemed to return to normal; his voice took on a tone of irritation, he leaned back, returned to his usual condescending ways: “Kayin, I would have done something if it was dangerous. Relax. Everything’s going to be different after tonight anyway—no patterns for someone to pick up on and follow.” Before Kayin could bring up any other thoughts, he gestured to the box of mushrooms: “Either ask better questions or start eating.”

Silken trousers? Check. Opened, embroidered jacket that went down to his knees? Check. Spring-loaded dagger? Double-check. Now all that was left to do was…pace back and forth while he waited for Dhekk to finish getting dressed.

Over and over again, Kayin walked from the stone counter to the front window. With each step, he listed a certain fact about Xiven in his head. This new Xiven was possibly younger than even Dhekk, held similar beliefs to Empress Thalia, and had a distinct fear of being found out. And they knew what Kayin looked like, if they sent an assassin after him when he was a child.

When Dhekk descended the stairs in a similar getup to Kayin, though in blue instead of green, Kayin looked up at him with a frown.

He didn’t even wait until the man stepped onto the proper floor before he asked, “Do we think Xiven was ever actually seen by the public in the past? And that’s why people are so certain of his identity—or lack thereof?” Dhekk raised his brows as he pulled his jacket down.

“Um, I think people settled on the identity primarily because of his introduction. And he probably kept out of the spotlight to avoid being assassinated. Ready?” Kayin nodded to him. “Alright, let’s get going.” Dhekk gestured for Kayin to start, but paused him with a wave of his hand. “Right, final thing—” He held up a folded, white handkerchief, and approached Kayin’s right pocket to tuck it inside. He folded the decorative flap back over the pocket. “Wave this like you’re blowing my nose if you need help.”

“Huh?”

“I’m going to be keeping my distance from you, watching people react to you as you go around and introduce yourself,” Dhekk explained. “So blow your nose into it if you run into trouble to signal me to come intervene.” He nudged Kayin’s arm to get him to head to the door. When they stepped out and Dhekk locked the door behind them, the cold air wasn’t enough to cool the rush of blood that ran through Kayin’s body.

“S-so I’m going to be by myself?” he asked nervously.

“You get the key in case of emergency,” Dhekk said as he slipped it into Kayin’s left pocket. “I’ll be able to bust through the door if things get bad. But you? You’re still basically a stick.”

“You’re leaving me by myself when we get there?”

Dhekk sighed and led the way down the stairs, down the road with a few other well-dressed individuals in the light of the street lamps.

“You’re not going to be alone, Kayin,” he said tiredly, “I’m still going to be there. And I’m sure Carcinogen is going to be at your beck and call, too.”

“Car—Karsarath?” He fell into a quick pace beside Dhekk, and tried to casually clear his throat. “Why, um, why do you think that?”

Dhekk actually shot him a look of annoyance as he mumbled, “Because you didn’t buy that hidden blade yourself, obviously.” When Kayin couldn’t meet his gaze, Dhekk continued, “Doesn’t matter. More help is not bad. And that thing could give us an advantage, in addition to a skinny kid like you being scary.” This did make Kayin laugh. He should have known that Dhekk would notice anything and everything; at least he wasn’t being bitter about it.

“Maybe if Karsarath helps tonight, we can revisit…?” he asked, trailing off to avoid the fancy people in dresses and robes on the street from overhearing. Dhekk shrugged.

“The only thing that matters is getting this done,” he said carefully, “to use it to…you know, and then to meet Tidesa in Junla.” Well, it wasn’t a straight-up no. Kayin decided to take that as a win, and instead focused on walking with Dhekk on the main roads to where all of them led: to the center-most building of Tornah, the tall, cylindrical tower of metal where all important decisions were made.

The streets were more alive than previous evenings; everyone that owned a home and chose to attend the gala wore their finest silks and linens, wore sparkling jewels and smiled brightly. Seeing people dressed like this—maybe for others, it was exciting. For Kayin, it left a familiar pit in his stomach. A pang in his chest reminded him of Ruyer, the way he asked Kayin for permission to defend him from people’s gossip.

“I don’t think I like galas,” he muttered aloud.

“It’s hard to hide weapons if you’re not a high status or a guard,” Dhekk said, as if agreeing. Another excuse to dislike them, other than the veneer of false entitlement things like this brought. And, well, his only previous experience was…probably worse than this one could turn out to be, if Tidesa saw this moment so long ago. Surely, at least Dhekk would have told him if he got framed for murder again. Once was a fluke, twice was—well, that was just ridiculous.

“Any…specific information you’d like to add before we go in?” Kayin asked once the tower was in full view. Dhekk sighed and glanced around to the different colored buildings, to the people in high spirits for a celebration.

“We have the advantage,” Dhekk said carefully. “Just keep that in mind.” It didn’t quite feel like he was trying to convince Kayin when he said that, though. And he wouldn’t make eye contact when they fell into the slowly progressing line of people that waited to enter the gala. A line of approximately two hundred people, chatting, telling their funniest jokes, making friends with others that waited to go inside, too.

Ridiculous hair styles, odd ribbons and sashes that didn’t entirely make sense to Kayin, but he figured they were fashionable. Out of the corner of his eye, he found one person not dressed with exotic bird feathers and expensive animal furs: a familiar, brown-haired woman around Dhekk’s age, wearing all black: black trousers, a long, black cloak. There was bulk underneath her cloak; the slightest view of finished leather poking out of her neckline. It might have been a few years, but that was a face he’d seen twice before, a face he’d never forget again. Be it a bestas jar or puddle of blood, she’d been in two of some of the lowest moments of his life until now.

Kayin turned to watch the front of the line, attempting to keep his expression even.

“Dhekk,” said Kayin as they moved forward. “We have another advantage.”

“What?”

“I think….” Another glance—yes, it was definitely her. “I think whoever tried to assassinate me is here.”