Behind a false wall and up a steep hidden staircase was the attic, the door to which was carved with as many litanies of soundlessness and protection as the wood could fit. Through this door was a sitting room filled with old furniture, comfortable enough for lengthy negotiation. As Ferda flopped down at their usual place on a threadbare seat, their eyes wandered to the tapestry that would slide aside to reveal Veridis’ private apartment, where all the war meetings were held. Though Ferda wouldn’t’ve allowed people so close to their home, Veridis had enough fire power nestled beneath xyr skin to dissuade most visitors from getting feisty.

“What’s this issue that was so important you’ve come to speak to me in private?” Veridis sat down in the arm chair across from Ferda and draped one leg over the other, at ease. “Usually, someone has to lure you out if I want to talk to you.” Ferda considered snapping back, but their earlier failure had soured their taste for games.

“Where the hell did all the rumors about me breaking into the Hakimi’s place come from?” Ferda crossed their arms. “Sure, my little joke might’ve been a bit conspicuous, but I made sure there was no evidence to connect me personally to the job. This ain’t a mistake on my part. You were supposed to keep my ties to your outfit on the down-low.”

“Well, I certainly never mentioned your name when I recounted the exploits of one of our junior members to a select few friends.” Veridis spread her hands with an innocent smile, as if she hadn’t just admitted to spilling the beans to the community gossips. “Quite a distinctive sense of humor on this person, a real go-getter.”

“I’m not a member of your gang.” Ferda bit out. The cleric just chuckled.

“You’ve done enough work for us that you practically are, Ferda.” Veradis shrugged. “Even if I had directly mentioned your name, it would’ve simply confirmed what many inside and outside our community have long suspected about your dealings with the us. It would be in your best interests to play along with these assumptions. After all,” xe gave a falsely concerned smile. “Your connections to our tyrannical rulers have long thrown doubt over where exactly your loyalties lie.”

“I don’t run with tyrants.” Ferda scoffed. “Serai wouldn’t oppress a bloodfly. The royals that would see me as an annoyance at best and an enemy at worst. Unless the people who keep spreading this shit want their favorite things to stop falling off caravans, they can keep their traps shut.”

“Ah, but with how little benefit to our community your pet princess has produced lately, more people are beginning to believe your critics. You were already on thin ice, with how little you respect any laws, much less ours.” Veradis gave a falsely helpless shrug as a muscle ticked in Ferda’s jaw. In the old hymns, the kind people like Veradis and Solace paid attention to and people like Ferda did not, Vanas were said to be divinely suited to be scholars and judges of Woromiran law. Having no gender of their own was meant to strip a person of biases that came with chosing one role over another. Ferda didn’t know what those ancient coots had been smoking to think human fallibility would spare anyone. They were a prime example of that.

“Since I did not wish to lose your services to any unfortune intercommunity violence, I reassured everyone of your devotion to our cause and nation.” Veradis folded her hands in a mockery of prayer. “I was looking out for both of our bests interests.”

“Bullshit.” Ferda hissed. “You’re just trying to get me all the way under your thumb. You know what would happen to me and my dads if you got your way and Woromiran troops took over the city. So do I.” Surprise flickered across the cleric’s face for the first time that night. Ferda let out a hard-edged snicker. “Unlike me, the place where your loyalties lie is a lot clearer than you’d like. Especially to people like me, who specialize in finding things people try to hide. You should burn your secret letters, by the way, so no determined dumpster divers can piece them back together and decrypt them.” They glared across the coffee table as Veradis’ face went carefully blank. “All the work I do for you is to improve the lives of the people here, not to pave the way for the assholes who drove my parents out for having opinions they didn’t like.”

“Besides,” Ferda continued, “wouldn’t it be such a shame if your main source of upper crust info dried up before you found out about the locations of all the unattended explosives that are going to be left lying around during the Kasani family’s upcoming party?”

“Unattended explosives?” The cleric’s eyebrow shot up. “What kind?”

“You’re not getting jack from me until you promise to detach my name from your fuckery.” Ferda shook their head. “If you’re so concerned about my critics, Veradis, then you should be a hell of a lot more worried about the ones living in the palace, with the power to order an execution. The royal shit-heads are taking new shots at me and the rumors of our involvement are starting to make the accusations stick.”

“Then you should abandon your hopes for Serai all together.” Danger flickered in Veridis’ eyes. “An uprising comes closer every day, and you’re eventually going to have to decide which side of it you’re going to be on, Ferda. This is a wonderful chance to make the right choice and stand with your people. After all, I will not hesitate to erase you if you decide to betray us for her un-royal highness.”

A chill ran down Ferda’s spine. You did not get to be the leader of a violent revolutionary cell without being able to command the respect of the nastiest of your members. Though they hadn’t seen Veradis exact retribution themself, they had found the bloody aftermath one night in the city dump. The sight had been enough to turn even their stomach. “I want a better life for my family, one where Abba doesn’t have to hide and Papa doesn’t have to break his back to keep us in a shitty tenement instead of the streets.” The thief took a breath to steady themself. “I’ll be on whatever side lets me snatch that dream from the jaws of fate. Until then…”

Ferda blinked and took another breath. Something smelled wrong. It was the scent of a stove left alone too long, and just a bit like lamp oil. “Something’s burning.”

Veridis blinked, sniffed the air, and shot up from xyr seat. She rushed over to the door to see smoke trickling beneath it. The cloud of ash and enraged shouts that billowed in as she opened the door erased any possibility of the smell coming from something as innocent as a knocked over candle. The cleric flexed xyr forearms to release foot-long, serrated mantiwary’s spurs from her wrists and pelted down the stairs with a snarl on xyr face. A stream of curses flowing from their mouth, Ferda followed, tapping their own modifications to life.