Nine Ashen Hearts

Cates sipped his coffee and listened attentively as Vish continued:

"Stop seeing problems in everything. Especially in yourself. What happens to a rabbit when there is no more carrot? And to the wolf when there is no rabbit?"

"I know only that in the city, all that is left for me is to wait until I end up in hiding or worse."

"It seems to me that there is a 'but' lurking somewhere here."

"There is one place… where the secrets are hidden. Maybe there I can find some light against these shadows?"

"This 'light' has got an emerald tint to it, right?"

The sly smile on her face brought up new worries. The carrot was becoming a rabbit.

"So you want to become a wolf, Vish?"

"No, I… I mean… Damn it!"

She tugged on the straps on her black tunic, releasing the mechanism attached to her arm, and her claws turned toward her forearms with a metallic clang. Time had marked them, but they remained reliable. Vish could only hope they wouldn't let her down one day. Her cyan eyes flashed—she tried to say something but lacked the strength or courage. Cates understood that such things could not be solved even with dozens of full quilns.

Gracefully, Vish slid from the bend of the window to the floor and took several silent steps along the rough beams of the tower toward Cates. A small dot like a black star decorated the outer corner of her left eye. She kept her head hidden under the scarf and murmured without her usual smile:

"Listen, Cates. Since we've mentioned hidings… I'm here because I have nowhere else to go. The links hold no options for me, you see… I got my claws in things best left untouched, and that resulted in some backlash. I see now that I really, really shouldn't have done that…"

She faltered and turned away for a moment. So that was it!

"It's me who's in hiding. But only for a short time… That contract from the Fires caused this, you know."

"Don't tell me that contract linked you against the Sparks…"

The Sparks, unlike the other links, were not too bad. Their element was water, and their sections were the closest to the tower of Cates. Vish kept muttering with an innocent face:

"Sparks? Not really… Any other links you don't particularly like?"

"I doubt I can count them all… The Pikes, for example?"

She shook her head.

"Vives, maybe? Claws?"

Wrong again. Vish began to enjoy this little game, watching his growing anxiety. Cates continued guessing.

"Well, can't be the Coals, right?"

She expressed a deep thought and raised her finger to her chin, amazed at her own deviousness.

"M-m-m. No, not the Coals. Need a hint?"

Cates hesitated with the correct answer, although he knew it. The links divided the city in agreement, and only one link was extremely brittle, even crazy.

"Vish? It's not who I think it is, is it? Blink if it's not them…"

Vish didn't blink and didn't respond.

"Ashes, Vish? You're hiding from them? Have you lost your mind?"

He hit the target. Why couldn't she come up with anything other than climbing up here…

"Don't the Fires provide protection with their contracts, Vish? I cannot fathom why you even got involved with them!"

She only lowered her shoulders and puffed out her cheeks, not expecting such a reaction from Cates.

"That's not their problem, really. It's just that the Ashes have uncovered… Damn, do you even know how many cycles have passed since the last successful finding? So, behind the outer circle, they finally found something long lost and precious! From the times of Precata!"

"Long lost… precious? Is it like the second sock?"

Vish furrowed her thin eyebrows, and her playful mood completely evaporated. The possible outcomes overtook and outlined bleak consequences in her head. She pursed her full lips, but Cates would not stop looking for the reasons.

"Of all the shadows, you knew perfectly well the dangers of taking contracts against the Ashes, Vish. What puzzles me is why the Fires are up against them. Is that why the lord's return is bothering you? What do the Ashes want? Drops? Mirrored contracts?"

Vish didn't answer but circled around the room. To distract himself, Cates patted his pockets and took out several envelopes of dried seaweed with spicy cubes of cereals. Putting one cube on his tongue, he drenched the sweet taste with the hot bitterness of coffee. The tartness burned his worries and warmed him up from the inside, banishing the last ghosts that had settled in the corners of his skull.

Vish looked at the remaining cubes with sadness, realizing that, just like Cates, she couldn't reveal everything. At that point, she stopped testing the waters and decided to dive in:

"Damn it all, okay, I confess. Not everything is smooth with those blasted Ashes because of one little detail."

"As I understand, that detail of yours is about 'wanted alive or a little less alive'?"

"You understand correctly. Only the contract has nothing to do with it. Because there was no contract… I stole a trinket from the Ashes for myself. With no contract. I couldn't help it!"

"Yes, thank you for the confirmation. You, indeed, went mad. That's twice as bad. Thrice, even. What kind of trinket was it? A relic? A cache?"

"It doesn't matter—it's a useless thing, but very pretty, believe me. I would have returned it, but the Ashes… No, it's impossible now. They are after me! Trying to find me in any way they can!"

"I don't believe you could have gotten yourself into such a mess; it's not even setting yourself alight, it's plain silliness. You're not that silly."

"Well, maybe I am that silly, what do you know… I'm gonna go… Will take my chances with the Fires."

"Vish. Wait. The Fires can't help themselves, how are they going to help you?"

"I don't know. I don't want to think about myself. Something will work out, it always does. Haven't you ever noticed that?"

"There's no protection without a contract, Vish. And I cannot do anything with that mad bunch, not to mention the valuables of Precata."

"You're right. I'm in full emerald. All the watchers are on their toes, the other links as well. The storm is coming, and my pockets are, well… At least I've evaded the inquisitors so far."

"So the inquisitors are after you too?"

Vish conjured up an innocent face. Cates knew well that even if she got into this unintentionally, her history was tainted, and there were no simple ways to erase it.

"I'm under the pendulum, Cates, in need to disappear. I'll deal with the links on my own; I only need some time to loop my trail. Will you help me?"

Her future unraveled before Cates. He saw several lines: the first one would lead her into exile from the circles without her quiln, that is if she ended up in the hands of those who sought her. Another line showed her voluntary surrender; that way, she would still be exiled, but she could keep her quiln. The last line was not under any consideration, as it would mean a permanent joining with the lower links. Cates took a sip of the hot coffee and nodded.

"You can stay here for as long as you wish. The Sparks won't let the Ashes or the Fires get close to the towers. The water is more important to them than a couple of troublesome shadows."

The light returned to the eyes of Vish, and she slapped his shoulder with joy.

"Hah! Now you're talking! You've mentioned coffee? I'll drink a cup just to fill it again. But for starters…"

She winked as her fingers deftly began to wander through the spice jars, quickly tweaking the brewed coffee with a pinch of this and an ounce of that.

"Look: cinnamon sticks, cloves, star pods—all together in this proportion, it will be tastier! And what an aroma!"

"I'll try to remember, Vish. Thanks."

"No. Thank you. The recipes are worth writing down, just you wait… Where's the ink?"

She scribbled down the recipe, and together they finished their coffee, seeing off the last rays of the sun. The streets below emptied as, one by one, the lights went out, sending the faceless to dreamland. The dried white trunks of the trees stretched upwards like hands, trying to catch the reflections of light that warmly bid farewell to the sleeping city and wished everyone a good night. Only occasionally did a green dot run along those lines to lead a lonely grain of sand through the labyrinth of twilight.

It was the perfect time to begin the preparations.

Cates began to circle the room in search of something more important than the flask. The sought-after item was not on the shelves, in the filters, or in the secret corners. He turned over the stacks of books, looked under the condenser, between the pipes, under the pillows… The curiosity of Vish did not allow her to remain in place as she swayed right after him.

"Are you searching for the second sock?"

"Found it!" exclaimed Cates, but what he found was not a sock, but a battered bag that had been hiding under the pillows all this time. After rattling the bag's contents, Cates finally pulled out the flask, whose shiny edges reflected everything in the room. An amber fire splashed inside it, but it was more of a pleasant addition than a necessity. Returning to the bag and rummaging through it, Cates pulled out another item, but this time a heavy one: pure emerald light gleamed from its side with a barely noticeable murmur. Vish almost squealed in amazement.

"You have a full quiln, dripping from every dent! How is that possible! You're not afraid that history will catch up? It's taboo to have more than one quiln without a contract. Have you been lying to me all this time?! Answer!"

Cates weighed the almost translucent silvery shell in his hand and fell into a memory. Compared to an almost empty quiln, a half-empty capsule looked brighter than the nearest star.

"This quiln is nothing more than a pitiful ransom from the departed, that's all. Don't be deceived, Vish; it's not full—there's a little more than half of the drops."

"That's what I'm talking about—it's empty but backward! Even this amount would be enough for… It's hard to even imagine!"

"A cycle, at best…"

"A cycle! At least! We can drop down! We can drip on the passage and leave the blasted city to try our courage in the outer circle! What say you?"

"So I'm the one who's building towers here, huh? Vish, you offered me your drops earlier; I can only offer you the same, but I'm not going where you want to go. Take them—it'll be enough for the passage."

"You know that I won't take them, but thanks, Cates. I appreciate it."

"I've never used this quiln. Maybe it's because I've been waiting for the right time?"

"Hah, then maybe the right time is here?! Just imagine! No links, no contracts, no histories. The shadows that returned from the expeditions told me about quiet and fruitful places outside the circles. Many others went there after the days of Decay. They will accept us."

"They will accept us, and we'll howl at the moon 'till the end of times with them. They are exiles."

"And who are we? Shadows are not supposed to last. Besides, when was the last time you ate anything other than seafood? You're sick and tired of whale meat, aren't you?"

Cates looked at the line where the sky met the salty earth. Even from the top of his tower, he couldn't see the edge of the outer circle. There are no sharks, that's for sure, but wandering the desert didn't seem that appealing. It seemed like an exile because it was exactly that.

"So you want to accept the exile? And take me along with you?"

"No."

"Well, why! Vish the pariah. Sounds cool."

"Cates the idiot. Sounds just as well."

"Why won't you join one link for good? You said it yourself—the Fires look after their shadows."

"Do you want me to brand myself in honor of their idol? Or maybe I should arrange a kiss with the dust of the streets for your pretty face?"

"Alright, got it. But let's assume that we'll get through the inquisitors and the rest on a skiff. There's nobody who'll be waiting for us in those lands. Well, except the wolves and tza-people. And besides, there could be a lot worse than here."

"It's really hard to imagine anything worse than here! What could be worse than these damned taboos and contracts? The links gnaw at each other's necks with smiles on their nasty faces! You already mentioned that they no longer respect the history. It won't be long before they forget about taboos and only the ones like the lord will remain…"

Cates could name a few things that were indeed much worse than that, but he didn't want to argue. He'd use the quiln for other things. The attempts of Vish to lead him astray only strengthened his desire to get out of the tower fast. Indeed, maybe he was waiting for this very impulse from her all this time.

"The ones like the lord, you say? So your trick with the links was meant to challenge him? You want to become a wolf, Vish."

She turned away. Indeed, there was nothing more to say. The time had come. Soon the last lights would fade, and the ethereal reflexes of the moon would remain the only guides in the night. The hands of Cates nervously returned the empty cup to its place, and he began his preparations for the descent.

The first necessary thing for that was his belt. It consisted of triangle-shaped parts, from which leather straps sprouted. Cates wrapped them crosswise around his torso. The rest of the straps wound down his patched pants and fastened to his boots, creating a framework for climbing hooks and wedges.

With that done, Cates picked his jacket off the pillow with his finger and put it on, black side up. On rare outings during the daytime, the white part helped to cope with the heat, but now it was time for the colors of the night. Aloe extract, along with a flask, found their place in the pockets.

The shadows needed to remain unnoticed among the faceless, so many elements of their activities had to be disguised. A thin hood emerged from under the jacket, supported by two needles fixed behind the collar. That way, they redirected sounds and improved hearing. They could also help with locked mechanisms if needed.

"Where are you going? Nobody needs a shadow tonight. I know that well…" Vish muttered while trying to stand in the way of Cates, yet he was quicker. He didn't want to spend any more time daydreaming. Having noticed an empty expression in his eyes, Vish understood his intentions but didn't want to admit them.

"You're not going to the other side, are you?"

His silence started to anger her.

"So you are going? And the bone box of yours hasn't cracked? Let me check."

Cates dodged her swooping palm.

"Doesn't seem so! You're not bound by a contract, and your emerald's not dry—so why in hells do you want to go into that blasted hole?"

"The histories. The shadows told me of secrets hidden inside. There is something, I'm sure of that…"

"Well, hell! The shadows never told me anything like that!"

Vish could hardly restrain her voice and bit into the mechanism of the claws with her fingers. She was ready to hold Cates back by force.

"You conjured up a problem because of some simple histories? Most of them are the work of the lower links to keep their disciples in check. They worship all sorts of nonsense, including the former lords. I've known stronger shadows than you, and none of them ever came back from there."

"Then maybe it's not so bad out there."

"That place is the worst—a trap full of dead histories. Worse than a den of vipers, worse than a whole city with Ashes…"

"And that's why you are staying here."

"Like the truest truth I am, for sure."

She crossed her arms over her chest, and after a minute of glaring at Cates, she exclaimed in her stubbornness:

"I'll come with you. Let me come with you!"

"No."

"But think about…"

"I said no. Learn to take 'no' for an answer and leave it."

"Cates! You're not under a pendulum, unlike some… and still, you scoff at some decent opportunities!"

"Vish, this is not up for discussion… You wanted shelter, it's yours. Stay here. Stay safe. And if I take some time to come back, don't forget to water the cactus."

She chuckled with some bitterness and whispered something. Cates did not catch that and adjusted the needles under the hood. He didn't want to listen to anyone. He could not admit the possibility that she was right and didn't welcome any new unnecessary doubts.

Cates tied the straps on his hands and feet and took the last necessary thing from the wall—a hook on a long segmented rope. An elastic rod was on the other end of that rope, allowing him to unclasp the hook with an impulse by turning it.

Vish appraised the preparation of Cates and looked for any omissions. Her cyan eyes followed his hands as they wrapped the rope around his waist and the frame of his jacket. He desperately wanted to come up with a cause for this recklessness. It was a simple risk. It was worth it. For the reward. He'll uncover the mystery. No one was there. Except histories. With no explanations. There's no need to come up with them, no matter how sweet that would be. Everything was under control. Why should he admit that his plan was no plan at all? And to whom should he admit it? To Vish? It was none of her business.

Cates finished wrapping the rope and calmed his thoughts. He was focused and ready. Without looking back, he jumped onto the curve of the stained glass window and clasped the hook onto the metal frame. Vish followed Cates with only her eyes as familiar movements directed him down from the window to the twilight peaks of the city.

Angular protrusions, similar to the bones of the spine, followed the sides of the tower. The air passed through them to filter the desert dust, and their shape allowed them to be used as anchors for ascent and descent. A shiver ran down the back of Cates when the iron cold of these spines took the warmth from the coffee as a price for passage. All the towers previously had platforms and ladders, but the Sparks sealed them to protect the internal systems from the tricks of the links. Cates always thought that climbing up was easier, but now he had to rely only on his strong grip. Descending along the dark side, familiar movements led him down from a safe height. The textured interweaving of the rope rustled under his gloves. The frame on the jacket helped the memory of his hands to catch the hook and soon he dropped low enough to jump to the neighboring roofs.

The evening city greeted the new shadow with a refreshing breeze. The neat, curved streets had almost disappeared, and with them the unchained people: traders, whalers, masons, farmers… all those who were up to nothing. Instead of them, various members of the links littered the alleys. An uneasy liveliness was present with them. Instead of their usual routine, they were more vigilant and numerous. Their patrols prowled chaotically under the watchful eye of sentries that protected their domains. In part, this could be explained by preparations for the month of the Wolf, but there was a different kind of tension in the city. Cates suspected that the Sparks had become the new target of the lower links. Open confrontation seemed to be about to begin. The fragile unity of the links was counting down its last grains like an hourglass.

The salt-covered roofs beneath the feet of Cates were like the white steps of a huge staircase, ready to capture the footsteps of a lonely shadow until the next storm. His boots began to tap out a light rhythm—running along the flat roofs stretched over no link's land, he tried to keep to the shadows. The chosen path appeared before his eyes from memory: here was a descent, here to the right and through the passage, now keep the balance, slowly, along the beams, along straight lines creaking with age…

He observed as the sequence of his actions began to resemble the recipe written by Vish. To the left now, down the drain, avoid the cracks, to the right, through the arch, up the balcony to the lightning rod spires, carefully squeeze through the snaking pipes, don't get burned…

The recipe came to an end when Cates abandoned the safety of the roofs. His feet finally touched the deserted streets, and an unusual feeling of ease took effect—he knew exactly where he needed to go. His heartbeat was quiet in the creeping night, the silence in the air only rarely interrupted by the slight buzzing of purifiers and vapor collectors that fed the bowels of the city. Cates knew the tangled streets well and was already far from the upper levels and the bright quarters of the Coals, where life did not subside even in the dead of night.

The time-worn Golden Curve stretched out before him, a road that led through the outer and inner circles of Sol like a wave. It followed under the white purity of banners to the great staircase and the empty throne. The weather was calm, and the shields that protected the city from the ashen storms were closed on the west side and watched over Cates' back. When the approaching storms coated everything with salt and sand in a bitter powder, these giant walls rose like petals to protect the inner circle. Rainwater flowed down their slopes to the lower levels, where it was purified and then sent through the towers to continue circulating along the Golden Curve. When the storm passed, the petals retracted, and the splendor of the sun returned to be reflected everywhere, driving the shadows to the far corners of the dreamlands.

Cates made his way past the watchers, keeping to narrow alleys and walking along the vents and pipes—the veins and arteries of this sleeping white leviathan. In the very center of the city rose a spire, connected to the towers that supported life in the inner circle. Once, the spire served as the seat of the lord who ruled Sol for hundreds of cycles. Many faceless believe that this lord witnessed the Cataclysm—countless stories were composed about his limitless power and immortality. Only now the throne was empty, and the lord was often gone on his expeditions outside Sol. The city was somehow managed by the links, whose only goal was to preserve the life that was slowly slipping away from their grasp. They could only control the flow of the emerald drops for the quilns and the quality of life they nourished. Salvation, as the lord assumed, was held by the relics of Precata.

Cates had no time to believe such assumptions.

The saturation of black and red flags divided the anarchy of the city into controlled parts. At the very top of the city were the sections of the Ashes—the corrupted offspring of the days of Decay. They blindly obeyed the lord and were bound to him by hatred and decay. The shadows (and the unchained) were best to avoid them at all costs.

To the left of Cates were the sections of the Sparks: their ranks consisted of traditionalists, guardians, historians, and priests. They were like the Embers and close to the faceless in their unrealistic desire to overthrow the lord. Their dogmas were the opposite of the Ashes, and their contracts were aimed at containing the influence of the lower links on the circulation of water in the city.

The image of Vish on the window was still fresh in Cates' memory. He turned and looked at the thin line that was the tower he had climbed down from. And to think that Vish was seeking refuge beyond the outer circle, where there was nothing but outcasts, dangers, and scavengers. However, there were no Ashes or Fires; at least she was right about that. Was it fate that guided Cates? He had walked out into the night over a thousand times, but now it all seemed different. Was it because of her? The appearance of Vish took him by surprise, but she was just another variable in a sea of unknowns. He should not be distracted—the decision was made.

Being a shadow, living constantly on the edge, sooner or later one can start believing in courage—a sequence of events where one false step could lead to failure, but every other step gave more strength and confidence to a shadow. It was as if each mistake changed for the better, becoming a count of happy coincidences, like an invisible hand leading the shadows through any obstacles to their goal. Cates believed in courage because more than once it had helped him get out of hopeless situations. He continued to believe and went down the spiral streets in the direction of the sea. Sometimes patrols of the lower links passed in front of him, but they did not notice another shadow among the thousands of other shadows. Cates, however, did not take risks and waited patiently until they moved out of the way.