Faelan had collapsed on his bed by the time they reached the room; Whitley had already brought the boiling water, which Slaine used to clean her brother’s skin and wash away the bits of dirt and grime that somehow marred the wound. She and Caitria washed his blood away before the copper-haired rebel planted herself at a table next to the bed and started wiping the device down with a cloth heavily seeped in acidic cleaning liquid.

“He really will be fine, Lapis,” she told her. “He’s taken worse. It’s why he modded in the first place.”

“Modded?”

She nodded. “His arm bones aren’t bone,” she intimated. “He took that blow because he knew the blade couldn’t cut through the proxi-bone. I don’t think he anticipated it bleeding that much, though.”

“He rarely thinks about that level of injury,” Jetta said, leaning against the doorframe, her hands digging into her upper arms. “He’s hardly immortal, as much as he thinks it.”

“He might be more cautious now.” Caitria dropped the cleaning cloth and snagged another one from a compact, square white container. “He has two people to live for.”

“Two?” Lapis asked.

“You and Jetta.” The woman nodded at her friend. “After the invasion, Faelan was a zombie. Nothing and no one could break his sorrow, not even your uncle. He met Jetta a bit later, and she pulled him from the darkness and gave him a reason to continue existing. Now that he knows you survived, you’re another part of that.” She smiled softly. “He deserves a better life than he’s lived so far, and perhaps you can make him see that.”

“His guilt is a heavy and fathomless thing,” Jetta agreed.

She should have found him sooner. She should have gained the courage and asked Patch about him. Pain kept her silent, but she should have known, the older brother she adored had not abandoned her.

“When will he wake up?”

“Hopefully sometime this evening,” Slaine said. “I dosed him good, though. Luckily there are others who can take the burden of leadership for a few.”

“I made a mess of things.” Lapis bowed her head, shame and rage and guilt washing through her. Perben should be dead, sprawled in a puddle of his own blood. Instead he lived, his continuing existence a threat to everyone she cared for, and he would lie his way out of punishment for his murderous ways with the support of several righteous rebels.

“You’re much like Faelan, acting on impulse when pushed.” Jetta squeezed her upper arms even harder. “I don’t think you appreciate how similar you are in that regard.” She half-laughed, half-sighed. “You’ll find out.”

“If he still wants me around.”

“Don’t be silly.” Mairin peeked into the room and studied him while reflecting the exasperation of her brother’s other friends. Lapis did not recall her being in the dining room, but she must have accompanied Midir, because she was with them the night before. “He’s been wanting to meet Lady Lanth for a couple of years now, and not just for rebel purposes—and now we know why.”

“Did you bring the pack?” Caitria asked.

“Yeah. We’re going to have to replace the supplies soon, though; there weren’t that many to begin with.”

“Jiy’s large enough to have what we need,” she replied.

Patch peeked in as well, then regarded her soberly. “Rin and Lyet want to go,” he told her. “The guard won’t keep the body that much longer.”

“They’ll want to bury him,” Slaine agreed.

“There’re no burials in Jiy, Slaine,” the chaser informed her. “Everyone gets thrown into the Pit so carrion lizards can eat their corpse.” The woman’s shock slid off Lapis; she had other worries than to soothe another’s trepidation and outrage. “They’ve outlawed funerals in Jiy and expect the guard to throw the bodies to the animals. The rats, though, they make a procession of it, light candles and walk with the body before throwing everything over the side of the bridge. No one stops them because it dings the reputation of those who try.”

“That’s horrible!”

“It saves on the cost of dumping rotting flesh into the earth and praying over a stone that marks it.”

He wormed his mouth to the side, realizing Lapis did not have the tolerance for his nonchalance.

“If anything really bad happens while you’re out, we’ll send word to the Eaves,” Mairin said.

“With Midir here?” Jetta asked, snorting on laughter. “Meinrad and Rambart are going to be feeling lucky they didn’t step further on his bad side. They will hide like good little mice until they can figure out a way to maneuver around him—and that isn’t going to happen before he calls meetings.”

Midir’s kindness towards others had limits. While Lapis believed he had relaxed in some ways, his presence in the dining room reminded her of his hard side, one that simmered beneath his outward pleasantness. He possessed a ruthlessness borne of hardship and familial expectations that weighed against his sense of justice and belief in the rebellion. Teivel’s betrayal had smashed every single emotional button the man possessed, and his supporters would be hard-pressed to convince the royal of anything other than punishment for the traitor, and, through their purposeful ignorance of his actions, themselves.

Rin jumped up from the comfy couch as soon as she exited the short hallway, antsy. Lyet rose, hesitant.

Before she said a word, the rat raised his hand to stop what she wanted to say. “We’s here ‘cause we chose it, Lady,” he told her. “Prob’ly not healthy, t’ know where the rebels is, but—”

“Despite Teivel, rebels don’t make a habit of killing innocents,” Patch said. “You’ve more to worry about with Hoyt.”

Lapis inwardly shuddered at his hard and deadly tone. “You didn’t find him.”

“We found a trap. Varr took the major hit, wasn’t too happy about it, but he saved lives—including Lord Adrastos’s. The guard brought in a Dentherion tech squad to diffuse the rest, and Sir Armarandos is . . . in a very unpleasant mood. I now have a suspicion where Hoyt’s at, but it’s in the western mountains and not easily accessible.”

“Thems at the Lells, they’s sayin’ this ain’t like Hoyt,” Rin said.

“It isn’t. And I have no idea why he stepped outside his comfortable existence. The Minq think they were the target, and their association with Lord Adrastos made him one. They also think Hoyt hooked up with a Ramiran syndicate that’s trying to move in on their territory and is acting in their stead. In a way, it doesn’t matter; we know something’s up because he has access to expensive, advanced tech he never should have been able to touch. It gives us something to start with.” Patch motioned to the door. “Let’s go. I need to find some wake juice before the procession.”

Lyet blinked, surprised. “You’ll join us?”

“Who’s going to go after you if I’m there?”

Who, indeed.

The Lells half-heartedly conducted business; the merchants moodily sold a few products, some silently cried. The customers walked about with sagging shoulders and melancholy gaits, only purchasing necessities. The tourists were easy to spot; they looked confused and suspicious and regarded the growing mischief of rats as if they had somehow conspired to ruin their outing.

Nilas had returned to the alley and sat among friends; Lapis breathed a soft sigh of relief. He hunched over his knees and stared absently at his feet while Heran sobbed into his shoulder. Her reaction surprised her; she normally held her emotions in reserve, concerned about how expressing them might harm her street standing. She behaved more like a lover left behind than a mourning friend, which made Lapis feel even worse.

Gabby jumped up, stressed. “Lady!”

Oh. Right. She had not changed into fresh clothing, even though she washed her hands. Patch should have pointed it out, but his concern was to find enough wake juice to keep him on his feet a while longer.

“She’s fine,” Rin said, emphasizing the words. “Fought one of ‘m that killed Miki. He ain’t goin’ nowhere.”

The street rats stared, as shocked by the revelation as by Miki’s death. The two guards at the alley entry glanced at each other but remained at their post. Good. She did not want to explain that the blood belonged to her idiot of a brother, who thought inserting himself into a knife fight a smart thing to do.

“Really.”

The nasty tone made her shudder. Lars and his buddies wandered up, eyeing her clothing with disdain. Half the rats shrank down, instinctively making themselves insignificant targets. How much bullying did Lars conduct that they never told her about? Rin took a confrontational stance and Lyet backed towards the cluster of reading circle kids.

“He’s dead, ‘cause a’ you,” Lars continued, a snarl remaining on his stubbled lip. “’N you ‘spect us t’ believe you did his killer in?”

“Rin never said I did him in,” she responded evenly, though her heart beat a painful, guilty pattern. “He said he’s not going anywhere—which he isn’t.”

“Looks like he gots the best a’ you,” Lars said, waving his hand at her bloody side.

“You think this is my blood? That I’m walking without bleeding everywhere, without pain, without being wrapped up?”

His buddies suspiciously studied her side while his eye twitched at the obvious counter to his implication. He had transitioned from dislike to hate for her, and that drove him now. She would eventually become his scapegoat for whatever befell him, and at some point, he would attack her, aiming to kill what he erroneously believed harmed him.

“Here.”

Patch shoved a small, folded pack reeking of cleaning solution for kitchen knives in front of her face. She needed to wipe down her weapons before the walk to the Pit, with the hope the blades did not become gunked up with drying blood before she could properly clean them. When they got stuck, Patch took them to a special cleaner, and she would rather keep them close. Her backup pair did not have the length or strength of the ones he gifted to her.

He tipped back a humongous bottle of wake juice that smelled stronger than Lars and his boys, then studied them with a narrowed eye. They all fidgeted, though Lars attempted to return the glare with a muddy glower of his own. He looked more like a guttershank caught with his hand in the till rather than a rat defying a well-known chaser.

The guards became far more interested in the group and nervously watched Patch. Had they experienced his temper?

She sat down as Rin stepped up, taking a wide-legged stance behind her. She opened the pack and withdrew a damp cloth, then triggered her right blade. The rats reared back, though only a few remained wary. Lars and his buddies did, after they noted the shine of red that coated the tip and the edges.

“He’s still dead, ‘cause a’ you,” Lars muttered resentfully.

“He’s dead ‘cause he made a mistake,” Rin countered. “A stupid one, considerin’. We all knew, Hoyt’s alookin’ ‘round t’ hurt us t’ get t’ her. So’d you. So’d Miki. You told them killers ‘bout the Lady, ‘cause you wanted to hurt her. ‘N they saw us t’gether, ‘n came lookin’ fer me. ‘Spose that’d do you fine, gettin’ back at me fer the last time.”

“When did you wake up?” Lyet called. “Your friends had to drag you away, he hit you so hard.”

Lapis wanted to slap her hand over her forehead. “Now is NOT the time,” she hissed through clenched teeth.

“You hit him that hard?” Patch asked, amused, regarding Rin.

“He did not!” Lars protested, clenching his hands at his side. He never took humiliation well, and Patch’s presence did not help soothe this particular embarrassment.

“Too bad you didn’t learn a thing from it.” Her partner studied the furious lad, noted his trembling hands, his stiff stance, and shrugged. “For all your bragging, I doubt you’ll last more than a few weeks in the undermarket,” he said. “You think being a bully is going to get you noticed. Many are better at it and larger than you—and they won’t like a kid mouthing off to them.” He took another large swig, then offered it to her. She managed a swallow before shuddering.

“There’s something called cream,” she reminded him, coughing. She handed it back, her eyes watering hard enough tears leaked from them.

“Ruins the flavor.”

Decking him in front of the rats and guards would do neither of them any good.

Lars and his buddies stayed, though they kept away from the rest of them. Lapis finished wiping her hands just as Copper and another guard stepped from the alley. Copper eyed her weapon, noted the blood on her clothing, and stopped.

“Lady?”

“It’s not mine,” she informed him.

The guard did a double-take when he realized Patch stood next to her.

“You’s ready?” Rin asked quietly.

“Yeah.” Copper collected himself quickly. “We have the evidence we need.” His unusually sharp gaze bore into her. “Unless you took care of them?”

“I only incapacitated one,” she admitted. “The one with tanned skin and dark hair and eyes, he wasn’t around. I don’t know who he is or where he might be.”

“If the one Lanth caught talks, we’ll get the info to you,” Patch said. “This isn’t the only atrocity he’s committed, and he’s in an underground cell right now.”

The guard considered the rebellion part of the underground, so while not the entire story, it was the truth.

“Are they staked?”

“Yeah. Probably not by whom you think.” He shrugged.

Staked? Yes. By her.

Several Lells merchants hastened up, clutching the stubs of candles. They lit them and passed them out to the rats, then handed the rest to her. Oddly, most did not react to Patch, other than to caution him to help her keep the procession safe. Lapis expected unease, maybe fear, but no. One woman even brought him another humongous bottle of wake juice, which he appreciatively accepted.

He caught her speculation and grinned. “I can piss in an alley,” he reminded her. He tried to squelch his laughter at her lack of amusement.

A merchant provided his handcart, one pulled by a single person at the front. Patch helped the guard put Miki’s body within, carefully covered with a thick blanket. Rin chose to pull it, and other than Lars, no one objected. A line of mourners formed and murmured blessings followed them from the market.

Copper watched, sober, and she recognized the stern internal suppression of emotion, one that would burst forth at a later, maybe unfortunate, time. “You alright?”

He shook his head. “No.” He firmed his lips, his gaze hardening. “I knew Miki pretty well. Helped him out numerous times. He wasn’t the brightest rat, but he was kind, he was funny. He was stupid this once, and it cost him. Just a dumb mistake, for a laugh. It’s . . . it’s not fair, and . . .”

“Not much is,” Patch told him. “People like you try to make it fairer, and it helps. You might have some rats looking for you, after we put him in the Pit.”

“They know where I live.” He licked his lips. “Keep an eye on Heran, OK? She and Miki were getting close. I don’t think they started a relationship, but it’s going to hit her, hard. And Nilas, too. He said he warned Miki to be cautious and feels responsible for not forcing him to listen.”

The older girls led the way, silent, cupping their candles in both hands. The rest trailed the cart, a few shedding tears, all quiet. The wind puffed up and down, a cool touch, and thick grey clouds hit the sun, promising more rain. The Grey Streets residents kindly made way for them, some even drawing oblivious others out of the way. They soberly regarded the blood-stained blanket and the lump beneath, and a few whispered condolences to the rats.

Lapis remained at the rear, head bowed, her emotions quaking. She had walked with processions before, but not with one that held the body of a rat who died because of her inaction. Some urchins had passed due to illness or injury, but she had done her best to get them medicine and a doctor’s care. They were not dead because she agreed to let a traitor live a few days longer. Miki may have laughed at the danger, but the rats never would have needed caution, had she acted when she first saw Perben at the House. An unanticipated strike and flight, and while she doubted Faelan could have convinced the Blue Council he was the traitor and saved her from being staked, Miki would not have died.

Patch settled a hand on her back. “You can’t blame yourself, Lanth,” he whispered.

“I should have gone after him when I first saw him.”

“Maybe. But there’s a reason I made you and Faelan promise not to.”

“And what could that possibly be?”

“Neither one of you are killers. Both of you would regret taking his life until the day you died, and he doesn’t deserve the consideration or guilt.”

A weakness, in them. “Faelan’s Leader.”

“Yes, and he plans marvelous things. He fights when necessary, takes risks, but that doesn’t mean he has the strength to kill someone he considered his best friend for a good portion of his life, even if that man committed atrocities against him. Empathy’s a precious thing and breaking it on Perben is unconscionable.”

Sometimes Patch should keep his opinions to himself.

“It won’t matter much longer, either way,” he continued.

“Why?”

“Midir and Faelan plan to break the rebellion apart.”

She almost stopped. “What?” she asked, aghast. Midir hinted at something, but that?

“Too many are like the traitor, Meinrad, Rambart. They want a clean restart. That began with the replacement of headpeople around Jilvayna, with few the wiser. They waited long enough for the infighting to make a potential counter organization untenable, and the Wolf Collaborate has quietly supported their choice.”

“Is that why they’ve kept that Dentherion contact secret? They met with her last night.”

“Did they?” Patch sighed. “Varr and I arrived just as Rin led Midir up to the door. We haven’t had time to talk to anyone.”

“She was going to meet with them at the Junperrijer apartment, wasn’t she?”

“Yeah.”

“The city guards cut off access to the eastern districts, and she and her guards were wandering about. They got attacked and Sherridan, Eithne and I helped them. She showed me Faelan and Midir’s picture and told me she was looking for them.”

“Life’s getting strange.” Patch took a long drink. “I wonder if that’s a good sign.”

Probably not.

Some of the younger rats wilted as they reached the Stone Streets border, but they determinedly continued. A few dropped back to walk with her and Patch, and they slowed a bit to accommodate them. No matter how long it took, the others would wait for them to arrive before they completed the short ceremony. A few trotted back to her to retrieve another candle because theirs burned out, and her partner lit it for them with his dented lighter.

The sky darkened slowly, ominously, as they trooped through the broken, overgrown, muddy Stone Streets. Residents cast them sympathetic looks, and even guttershanks moved out of the way once they beheld Patch at the end of the line. They reached the bridge as the first fat drops fell, and Lapis resigned herself to a soggy return to the Eaves.

The lead girls stopped at the top of the gentle arch and threw their candles over. Each rat did the same in turn, and after the last one dropped their stub, Lapis dumped the remaining candles over the side. They wobbled down and plopped onto a rotting pile of flesh and bone and cloth, bright white dots against the dark brown of decay.

The oldest male rats, without a word, took the bundle of once-rat and hefted him onto the railing before pushing him over. The remains landed heavily, splattering the area with gunk.

“’Bye, Miki,” Heran whispered.

“’Bye, Miki,” the rats said, disjointed but heartfelt. Tears even marred Lars and his buddies’ voices. They stood, silent, as the rain intensified, drowning them and the broken stone in torrents. They stood, silent, as a gigantic shadow filled the Pit and the surrounding streets, and slowly rolled to them, casting darkness in its wake.

Lapis looked up; it had been a year or more since the last Dentherion Skyshroud docked at Jiy. The empire had built a platform for the frontline airships to land and retrieve supplies, but Jilvayna, a relatively peaceful country after the invasion, rarely garnered such attention. The enormous airship plodded across the urban landscape, a multi-leveled, black, rectangular city-like structure set on a wide base, with several running green lights and a dull but grinding whir. It kicked up small whirlwinds and sent debris skittering in all directions.

“How wonderful,” Patch grumbled as he shielded his eyes and glanced up.

“Let’s go,” Lapis said as the shadow blanketed the bridge and darkened everything about them. The rats scurried to the street; a few lingered, staring over the side, attempting to ignore the intrusion, but they, too, ran as the ship blotted out nearly all ambient light, leaving the area in late evening darkness. Rin and Lyet pushed the cart while Jandra grabbed Heran and forced her away; they left, heads down, shoulders hunched. Patch snagged Lapis’s hand, and they walked down the sloping way, the last to vacate. The reading circle waited for them with a scattering of others, including Heran and Nilas. Good. Neither should remain alone that day.

As one, they headed for the rain-drenched, comforting familiarity of the Grey Streets, their imperfect home.