Page 90 of Realms of Swords and Storms
As I exited the records hall, the square had begun to fill in earnest. Families spread blankets across the cobblestones.Children darted between vendor stalls, their laughter rising above the general din. Musicians tuned their instruments on a small stage.
And still, the imperial guards seemed unconcerned. Relaxed. Almost... expectant.
I looked up at the reviewing stand where local officials would gather—my final target, where I would plant the device with the longest timer. It was positioned at the far end of the square, a wooden platform draped in imperial crimson and gold. And it was surrounded by... nothing. No guards. No security cordon. Just carpenters making final adjustments to the steps.
A coldness spread through me, ice water in my veins. It was too easy. All of it. The unlocked doors. The minimal security. The encouraged civilian attendance.
As if they knew. As if they were waiting.
I changed direction, moving toward the alley where Kalen had established our meeting point. I found him there, conferring with two of the others, each device had its own volunteer, a man or woman who would trigger the device and then escape. Six people, six devices.
"Something's wrong," I said without preamble, my voice low but urgent. "The security is all wrong. And they're encouraging families to attend, filling the square with civilians."
Kalen's expression didn't change, but something in his eyes did—a hardening, a narrowing. "You're nervous. It's understandable. The first operation is always the hardest."
"This isn't about nerves," I insisted. "Look at the square. Look at the guards. They're not concerned. It's like they're expecting something."
"Or perhaps they're simply enjoying the festival like everyone else," Kalen countered smoothly. "Not everything is a conspiracy, Tarshi."
"The reviewing stand has no security," I pressed. "None. Does that seem normal to you? For a platform where Imperial officials will gather?"
A faint line appeared between Kalen's brows—concern or annoyance, I couldn't tell. "We're not targeting the officials," he reminded me. "Just the empty stand, after the ceremony, as a symbol. Have you placed the other devices?"
"Yes," I admitted. "But I'm telling you, something feels wrong. There are children out there, Kalen. Families. More arriving every minute."
"And they'll be warned," he said, his voice hardening slightly. "As we discussed. Enough time to clear the area before the devices activate."
I studied his face, searching for any sign of doubt or concern. I found none. Just a calm certainty that suddenly seemed more frightening than reassuring.
"How many?" I asked, the question forming before I had fully processed my suspicion. "How many devices are being placed today? Just the six in my bag?"
Kalen's expression didn't flicker. "Of course. As we discussed."
But I caught it—the briefest glance between him and one of the others. A silent communication that confirmed my growing fear.
"You're lying," I said, taking a step back. "There are more. Aren't there? Devices I don't know about. Locations I wasn't told about."
"Tarshi," Kalen's voice was a warning now. "You're becoming hysterical. Perhaps you should—"
"No," I cut him off, my mind racing as pieces fell into place. "No, this isn't right. None of it is right." I looked at the square, now filling with families, with children, with innocent people who had no idea what was coming. "We have to stop this. We have to warn them."
I turned to go, to run into the square shouting a warning, but hands grabbed me from behind—the two men who had been with Kalen, now restraining me with surprising strength.
"I'm sorry it's come to this," Kalen said, his voice genuinely regretful. "I had hoped you would see it through to the end."
I struggled against the hands holding me, panic rising in my throat. "See what through? The murder of children? Is that what the resistance stands for now?"
"The resistance stands for whatever is necessary," Kalen replied calmly. "And today, what's necessary is a demonstration that cannot be ignored or dismissed."
They dragged me backward, into a building I hadn't noticed before—a wine merchant's shop, closed for the festival, its cellar entrance gaping open like a mouth ready to swallow me.
"You can't do this," I gasped as they hauled me down the steps into the darkness below. "There are innocents out there. Children. This isn't justice, it's murder."
"It's war," Kalen corrected, following us down. "And in war, there are casualties. The Empire didn't hesitate to burn Talfen villages, to slaughter Talfen children. Why should their children be more precious than ours?"
Horror rose in me like a tide. "Because we're supposed to be better than them! Because if we become what we hate, what's the point of fighting at all?"
They bound me to a support beam, the ropes cutting into my wrists. The cellar was dim, lit only by what little daylight filtered through a small, street-level window.
