Page 61 of Realms of Swords and Storms
"And then?" he asked, a hint of his old smile returning.
I matched his smile with my own, fierce and determined. "And then we show the Empire what the Talfen can really do."
16
The basement of The Sunken Ship tavern smelled of sour ale and unwashed bodies. Sweat beaded on my forehead as I wedged myself between Antonius's massive frame and a sallow-faced man whose name I couldn't recall. Too many new faces lately—a good sign for the resistance, perhaps, but it made me uneasy. The more people who knew your name, the more who could betray you.
"Getting crowded," I muttered to Antonius, who merely grunted in agreement.
Our usual meeting place at The Crow's Coin had been deemed too risky after increased Imperial patrols in that district, so we'd relocated to this dockside tavern. The space was larger but stuffier, the low ceiling trapping heat and making it difficult to breathe.
I scanned the room out of habit, noting exits, potential weapons, faces I recognized and those I didn't. Tarshi and Livia sat across the room, heads bent close in conversation.Something had changed between them recently—a new intensity, a shared secret. Tarshi seemed different too, more centred somehow, despite the wound in his leg that still caused him to limp.
"They're late," Antonius said, his deep voice pitched low enough that only I could hear.
I nodded, checking the crude timepiece on the wall. Kalen and Mira were usually punctual to a fault. Their tardiness did nothing to ease the growing knot of tension in my gut.
"Maybe they were followed," I suggested, scanning the room again, this time looking for anyone who seemed too interested in our gathering, anyone whose eyes moved too precisely, whose posture was too controlled for a simple tavern patron.
Nothing obvious stood out, but the feeling persisted. We were too exposed here, too visible despite being underground. The Empire had eyes everywhere, especially in areas like the docks where foreign traders mingled with locals.
"You worry too much," Antonius said, though his own eyes were conducting the same careful scan of our surroundings.
"Someone has to," I replied with a half-smile.
The northern giant had become a steady presence at my side during resistance activities over the past weeks. Though I would never have chosen him as a companion—he was too large, too visible, too foreign to blend in anywhere in the capital—I'd come to appreciate his quiet strength and shrewd assessment of situations. Beneath that massive frame and stoic exterior lay a surprisingly keen mind.
The door at the top of the stairs finally opened, and Kalen appeared, followed closely by Mira. They descended quickly, Kalen's weathered face set in grim lines that deepened the furrows already carved by years of sun and struggle.
"Apologies for the delay," he said without preamble as he reached the centre of the room. "We had to take a circuitous route. Imperial presence in the city has increased again."
A ripple of unease passed through the gathered members. Mira stepped forward, unrolling a map on the central table. "Two more checkpoints have been established," she said, marking the locations with small red pins. "Here at the western gate, and here where the merchants' road enters the noble district."
"They're tightening the noose," someone muttered from the back.
Kalen nodded grimly. "It appears so. But this actually confirms what our sources have told us—the Emperor is nervous. These increased security measures aren't signs of strength, but of fear."
I exchanged a glance with Antonius, seeing my own scepticism mirrored in his expression. Checkpoints and patrols seemed less like fear and more like preparation to me. As if the Empire was expecting something.
Or perhaps planning something.
"The festival is ten days away," Kalen continued, his finger tracing the route of the imperial procession on the map. "Our plans remain unchanged, despite these developments. If anything, the increased security makes our message even more important. The people need to see that even in the heart of imperial power, voices of dissent cannot be silenced."
I shifted uncomfortably, the doubts I'd been harbouring for days pressing against my ribcage, demanding voice. Before I could speak, however, someone else beat me to it.
"Are we certain the Emperor will actually attend?" The question came from a lean, scholarly-looking man I'd noticed at several recent meetings. Elan, I thought his name was. A scribe or minor official in some imperial office—valuable forthe information he could access, but still new enough to the resistance that I remained wary of him.
"Our intelligence is solid," Mira assured him. "The Emperor attends the Storm Festival every year. It's a tradition dating back generations, a symbol of imperial continuity and strength."
"But with the recent unrest," Elan pressed, "might he not decide the risk outweighs tradition?"
A fair question, and one I'd been wondering myself. The Emperor was many things, but he wasn't foolish. With rebellions flaring across the provinces and discontent growing in the capital itself, placing himself in the midst of a crowded festival seemed unnecessarily risky.
Unless he had absolute confidence in his security. Or unless he wanted something to happen.
The thought had been nagging at me for days, a persistent whisper I couldn't quite silence. What if the Emperor knew about our plans? What if he was allowing them to proceed for reasons of his own?
"The Emperor cannot show weakness," Kalen said firmly. "Skipping the festival would be tantamount to admitting he fears his own people. His pride won't allow it."
