The Rogue Guardian

Chapter 22: New Clothes

"How does this fireplace work, anyway?" I asked Wes. "Is this a hole in the ground above us that randomly sends up smoke that people have learned not to question?"

He snorted into his drink. "I believe this chute just extends farther up aboveground next to a building so it looks like a regular chimney."

"So not only are there fake chimneys that are actually entrances down here, but there are also fake chimneys that are actually underground fireplaces? Are any of the chimneys in this city real?"

He let out a bark of laughter. "You know what, you're right. All of our chimneys might be imposters. It's amazing we haven't been shut down yet. What is it, Kay?"

I twisted around to look up at Kay standing behind us. He seemed to have been listening, with a small frown.

"Ysmay needs you in the meeting room. And Adina, Evvie found some clothes that might fit you, if you'd like to change."

"Oh. Yeah, thank you." I followed Wes into the tunnel, and as he knocked on the meeting room door Evvie showed me into a smaller room down the hall. It was cold without the warmth of the fireplace and I was quickly shivering again. Eager to get back to the tavern room I pulled off my soggy boots and socks and picked up the clothes Evvie had left on the stool. But despite my shivering, I didn't start to put them on immediately.

I was surprised by the selection. I'd expected some of Evvie's clothes or some belonging to another female rebel, which would have probably been a bit short or small on me, but the white tunic here looked to be the perfect size, which would have been unusual already even if pure white clothing weren't so rare. The pants were light beige and also the right size-- almost as though they'd put some effort into getting good clothes.

Maybe it was just that I wasn't used to anyone caring if I looked sloppy or not, but it seemed strange to me. I wasn't like people would be looking at me specifically. And it made it seem like they hadn't just scrounged these clothes up because I happened to show up soaking wet, but had gotten them beforehand.

Still, I was cold and wet. I put the shirt and pants on and went to pull on the boots as well, also the right shoe size. But what stopped me the second time was their soles. There was designs cut into them, for better grip on the ground, which I'd seen only on rain shoes and training boots. And there was a rusty tinge to them, which I had only seen in one place-- the shoes of some of the more experienced fighters at the match house, ones who had been through too many bloody fights to quite wash the evidence from their feet.

Slightly unnerved, I finished dressing and transferred the knives in my own boots to the new ones and tied my wet hair back before stepping outside. Evvie was waiting with her arms crossed. Wes was next to her. Even before I processed what she was saying I already understood.

Wes's arms were crossed as well, hands clenched on his arms. There were two knives in his belt that hadn't been there before I changed. His face was dark, his jaw clenched tight.

"I hope you're ready for a fight," Evvie said grimly.

"I hope your kidding."

She put one hand on my shoulder and pushed me ahead of her, marching us back through the tavern room. Wes followed in sullen silence. "Each new recruit has to prove themselves."

"Ysmay practically forced me to join and you're still going to make me prove myself?"

"It's nonnegotiable. Us basing ourselves in the caverns puts everyone else down here at risk. It's only fair we pay them back somehow, and sometimes that means providing entertainment. You could try being grateful-- Ysmay's assigned much worse tasks to new recruits. You clearly have some practice at this."

True, but it wasn't really the fighting I was angry about. I assumed I'd win. I was more annoyed that Wes had refused to warn me and that they were being entirely unfair.

"You have a few minutes to warm up," she said, leaving Wes and I in the back of the room behind winding her way closer to the stage.

I considered several curse words but couldn't find one to accurately sum up my particular combination of anger and annoyance, so I settled for glaring at Wes. He seemed just as angry and annoyed and not particularly bothered by my look.

"You could have said something."

"I didn't know she'd pick this."

"You still could have said something."

He glowered at the ground and I rolled my eyes.

I decided to be more productive with our few minutes and think back to the only time I'd seen him fight, in my first encounter with him and Kay and Lucien. He was good, I remembered. But then again, he'd had Kay's help. Perhaps he wasn't that good.

But then again, Ysmay had specifically chosen him to do this.

Before I could consider it any further Wes nudged me forward and I realized it was time. Evvie jumped onto the stage and waited for us to reach its base then began.

"As always, the Phoenix wishes to express its gratitude for the home it has found in these caverns. You have allowed us not only to stay but to grow. You gave us not only protection but the ability to protect ourselves. You helped us set the fire we were born from."

The crowd shifted impatiently, but her speech wasn't for them anyway, I realized. Evvie was addressing only two people in particular, two people I knew immediately I should have been paying attention to. They must have been twins, as they were identical, same height and stature, both with black hair with a bluish sheen and sharp, reserved faces.

"From the ashes of that fire," Evvie finished, "The Phoenix will rise." She clapped Wes on the shoulder. "The duel ends with first blood. We hope it honors the gifts we have received here."

First blood. I hadn't been expecting that-- at the match house only the best fighters used that rule. The few times I had fought all you had to do was receive the other person's surrender. I suspected surrendering here would only get you ridicule.

Worse, I finally remembered the one other thing I knew about Wes. The match house, Jaden had told me, also hosted an event called the glory duels, a set of fights to the death. And Wes, before he left, had won it.