Trial by Flame

Chapter 39

It didn't take until midday.

Trelisti was already piecing together the slightest clues: awkward glances from curious passersby, a strange energy across Ienitt's forces, and most apparently, a dramatic sweep of goods he'd recognized as more common among the Sabja. He watched a group of them toss scarves and shawls, trousers and tunics, even hair pins and a few bags into a pile before a firebrand made quick work of them. For a community as poor as this one to take measures so extreme, there had to be good reason.

He suspected he already knew why, but Lias' summons cemented it.

"We've confirmed Sunila's relationship with the industry," he explained as soon as Trelisti came in. "Our scouts found fabric fitting the description you gave in a storehouse, and investigating the workers led us to some concerns about the products they're creating. If you own anything produced by them, I'd suggest burning it immediately."

"I'd have to ask Tellik to be sure, but I'm not too worried at the moment," Trelisti replied, eyeing his outfit without concern. It was leftover from the rental's supply, much nicer than most of Sunila's goods, and he wasn't really looking to talk anyway. They didn't seem to be on talking terms yet. "What kind of concerns are we looking at?"

"A modified form of pulse magic. One lacking the very feat it's named for," Lias answered. He reached into a drawer for a set of keys as he spoke. "I haven't figured out the specifics yet; I'll have to go back to my lab, for starters, and heavens know I'm nowhere near finding out the long-term effects. But what the workers described was frightening: a silent, slowly-acting version of pulse magic. Rather than a dramatic, instant action—a form you'd most commonly recognize from chains, and the pulsing sensation when you lose your magic—'the red fabric,' as they describe it, is like a growing soreness. Most didn't realize it was affecting their magic until it was permanent."

"Permanent?" A rare stroke of surprise, true surprise, stumbled Trelisti's words. "They couldn't use their magic after taking it off?"

"I can't confirm it entirely yet, but it sounds like that's the case for weaker mages. The ones who still have theirs describe it as embers." He made a hurried movement towards the doorway, motioning for Trelisti to follow after. "I've got much to look into—whether wearing the fabric has a different effect than just working with it, seeing how much exposure it takes to activate it, measuring the permanency of effects, and so much more—but that shouldn't concern you today. Instead, I've got news for you. A request."

Trelisti was still following, both in the conversation and out the door, when the bustling crowd consumed them both. People and chatter swarmed the commons, moving slow yet fluid toward the entry.

"Ah! Perfect timing." Lias' voice stood out against the others, the only language he recognized. "You might want to find a spot to wait. It'll be a while before the crowd dies down."

"Wait for what?" There was a cheerful buzz among the crowd, a natural excitement that felt out of place. "What's—"

A wrinkled finger pointed towards his answer, at the very front of all the commotion. Trelisti was thankful for his height as he looked over.

Encircled by the crowd was a figure, small in frame but muscular, with a string of weapons hanging off their hip. They wore a worn cloak over umber skin, tears in the fabric and flesh marred by scars, chest bound by bandages and a mask concealing the bottom half of their face. Ashy-brown hair, red where the light hit, strayed out from a hood they were pulling off. They took the mask down next, then caught a jumping child with a grin.

"Rowan Mi'halaa," Lias said spritely. "Our keystone."

Trelisti stood for a moment, fixed between the name and the figure. He recognized the former—one of the industry's top targets, right behind Lias himself. But despite that, he knew little about the person themself.

"Who are they?" Trelisti brought himself to ask once the crowd had shifted forward some, he and Lias lingering behind. "I've heard the name, but never with context."

"The single most important part of our operation, whether people will tell you that or not," he answered energetically. "They're one of our strongest fighters, perhaps challenged only by Ienitt, though he doesn't work on the front lines like she does. Besides being efficient in her missions, she's brought home more people and disrupted more pulse business than anybody else here. And that's not even factoring in their most important role."

Trelisti found a different question forming in the back of his mind, but he waited, curious. "And what might that be?"

"Our communicator. Without her, we couldn't act nearly as quickly as we do," Lias replied. "And, of course, there's the morale boost she brings."

The latter was more than apparent—Trelisti found himself shifting back as more people flooded the streets to greet them. And while he wasn't entirely sure about the former, Lias had the sort of mischievous glance that said find-it-out-yourself.

"So why were you first on the industry's list, then, if she's so important?" Trelisti asked, recalling the urgency Tellik told him about. "Was it just to prevent your information from getting out?"

"That's likely the main reason. But if you ask me," Trelisti found his gaze setting over her as Lias spoke, familiarizing himself with her appearance and her mannerisms. "They've given up. She's been eluding them for years, and other than her name—which is just a cover—they don't know anything about her. Most industry members right now think she's a man."

Trelisti wasn't shocked, but he was impressed. "Is that why she's dressed like that?"

"In part. It's harder to get a description from witnesses if the witnesses don't know what they saw," Lias answered. Ahead, she was starting to move, subtly pulling the crowd away from the entryway. "Though they don't entirely feel like a woman either. She or they is fine here—they prefer that we alternate the two—but we never refer to them as a woman in front of enemies. It helps protect her identity."

"Heard," Trelisti replied understandingly. "I wouldn't do the opposite, knowing that."

Lias response was barely a mutter. "Then you're better than many."

Just as he finished, a loud wail came from the crowd. Trelisti whipped back to see the source, and at the same time sounded another, and more after that.

Behind Rowan, surrounded by a group of people who looked like fighters or scouts—not quite formal soldiers, but a ragtag equivalent, in the same way that he and Quinn were rebels—was a cluster of Sabja. Most were women, and all were soaked in emotion. The wailers from the crowd ran forward, each embracing someone they knew. Someone they loved.

"Looks like they ran a side mission again," Lias said with a sigh, a sort of tired-happy, almost paternal sound. He looked to his sides, then up, fruitlessly. "Have you seen Asli anywhere?"

"Not since this morning."

"Ah. Consider telling him if you see him, then," Lias said, squinting towards the sun. "I really musn't stay much longer—I'm afraid I got distracted in all the excitement—but please do meet with her once the crowd parts. She requested to meet with you specifically."

Trelisti still had questions when Lias started to run off, disappearing into the sea of people before he could utter a delay. So he rubbed the tension from his face and went to find a spot alone, hoping the waves of people would wash away before sunset.