Gods & Thieves ✔

14. Sculpture and Genius

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Cakes are good, but a revolution goes first.

It takes some time to find the guards' headquarters without talking to anyone, and some more time to patiently wait in the shadows, in a small paved backyard hidden under the stone staircase connecting the upper levels of the Great Temple's two wings. I know when the patrollers change shifts as I've been watching them in the past few weeks, thinking my brothers might find it useful. Now, though, I rather think my brothers can go to hell if they don't find it useful even to rescue me.

After half an hour of hiding from the merciless sun, I finally notice the guard I've been waiting for, who lazily walks out of the patroller's quarters. Ian.

Luckily, his twin sister isn't with him; I like Gen, but I can't fully trust her after she admitted her loyalty to Loretto by giving faer my cookies. And Loretto doesn't need to know I've been here.

I don't say a word, only dive out of the tree shadow and wave my hand, inviting Ian to come over. Technically, I don't break my mentor's rule of talking to anyone unless asked if Ian talks to me first.

Ian looks tired after the night shift of patrolling the streets, his uniform rumpled and shoulders hunched, but he only frowns, nods, and follows me into the bushes. We walk in silence down the alley that leads to the hot springs where some shamans like spending evenings. During the day, though, the springs are abandoned, so it's a perfect place to talk in private.

"What do you need?" Ian asks when we stop, his voice detached, soldier-like. For a moment, I think he's just in a bad mood for I remember him being quite talkative the last time we spoke. But then I realize he's glancing at my mentee's bracelet warily.

He thinks I'm a shaman now. The realization surprises me. Loretto hasn't really told anyone about the progress of our studying, which means nobody really knows I've been taught nothing so far. And it's been weeks. I should've been taught something.

And every plainblood knows better than to trust shamans and their godlike powers that can squeeze you lifeless in no time. I once used to wonder why shamans even need guards--until Kofi told me that guards in Cabracan don't really guard anything or anyone, or keep peace in the streets.

They're a facade.

Officially, the empress forbids shamans from using aura against plainbloods, stating that everyone is equal, but that's okay if one plainblood beats the shit out of another, right? Equality. Only plainbloods are allowed to work as guards, and the weapons they carry--can bullets even harm shamans?--are a good way to feel superior still. A rare guard will want to betray the empress because of the good sums of gemcoins they're paid and the sense of authority they're granted by their position. Divide and conquer. Let plainbloods fight plainbloods, set the rules from afar, and enjoy the show.

Yet in their hearts, even guards don't like shamans. Ian definitely doesn't. And he thinks I'm a traitor of my people, who sold my soul to the enemies.

"Relax, I'm no aurablood," I say, yanking at my bracelet with as much contempt as I can. It's a risk to admit that, but I need Ian's help. "Gen was right, what I did with touching aura when you two caught me was a trick. But if you tell anyone I said that I'll deny everything."

Ian still looks suspicious, though his hand doesn't even move toward the gun on his belt. Funny, he wasn't hesitating when he and Gen caught me. Because then, I was plainblood, a commoner, and now...But that's bizarre! Even if I suddenly did learn to wield shamanic magic, would it have changed me, really? I'm not a shaman, raised to believe my divine powers make me better than others. I'm still me. Not a worshiper of the usurper empress who thinks she can sit on the throne for the centuries her unnaturally long life lasts and play us like a chess game.