Lio continued, “Though the conditions in which we live are worse than ever, the community is tired. They have no one to fight for them. Not since the revolt of the hundred, ten years ago in the coal mines of Jin-Hidal, have the Dusters come together in defiance of their masters. But the wardens slaughtered them like they did our family, like they do with every uprising. Until all we can do is obey. Obedience is killing us, Sylah.”
Sylah thought of Loot and how his criminal operation lived symbiotically with the wardens. His reign was a type of rebellion, and he drew the unsatisfied to him like Papa had. But unlike Papa, his ideals benefited no one but himself.
“There’s still the problem that there’s just Jond and me. Even if one of us did win, we’d only control the guild of strength. What about duty, truth, knowledge? How will we make any change without the rest of the guilds on our side?”
Lio shrugged, an unusual movement for her tense shoulders. They moved up and down mechanically.
“Papa was cautious by picking twelve of you, three chances for the win. But there wasn’t ever a guarantee that would happen. Remember Fatyma’s arithmetic? Couldn’t add numbers. There was no chance she was ever going to win the Aktibar for knowledge.”
Sylah laughed as she remembered Fatyma throwing the abacus across the room more than once. Her twin, Hussain, had tried to teach her, but she never listened. Sylah pulled on the glass beads in her bangs, one from each of them.
Lio huffed through her nose and smiled. “Change can start off small.”
When Sylah’s own grin had grown stale, she looked around the room and took in the life she was leading. She was satisfied, wasn’t she? Lio watched her with narrowed eyes. Neither of them liked each other all that much, but that wasn’t for want of trying. A year ago Sylah had bought Lio a vase for her nameday. Her mother scolded her over wasting money and sent her to trade it. That was the last time Sylah tried to make her adoptive mother love her.
“Mama, why don’t you love me?” Once she spoke the words, she realized the question had been her companion for some years.
Lio frowned.
“Love? Oh, what a silly child you can be. I love you more than the child I gave up, and do you know why? We chose you, all twelve of you. We plucked you out from your Ember homes and bonded you to us with something stronger than blood. Purpose.”
The words didn’t make Sylah feel any better.
“Did you not see purpose for the child you gave up?”
The slap took Sylah unawares, pushed her backward on the bed. She accepted the pain. Bruises fade, but resilience doesn’t, as Papa used to say.
Then Lio said something unexpected.
“I…I’m sorry.”
Sylah held a hand to her stinging cheek. She wondered if Lio would have slapped her blood daughter this way. Sylah reached into her satchel pocket. Just to count them. It was a reminder that they were all she needed.
Lio stood up and lifted the curtain that led to her room and the stairs beyond.
“I try not to think of the child I left behind.” Her face was cast in shadow, but when she turned to Sylah her eyes were haunted. “We vowed never to tell the Stolen whose crib we had taken you from and whose child we left behind.” She was pulling on a frayed piece of the curtain, worrying a hole into the fabric. “The Duster decoys gave us time to run, time to hide. Most of the babies were killed once they were discovered to have blue blood. We only knew one who was still alive. She was my real daughter, the girl I left behind when we stole you.”
Sylah had never heard this before. Nor had she ever heard her mother speak so softly.
“Where is she?” Jealousy thrummed through her as quickly as joba seed juice.
“Here in the city…in the Keep.”
“In the Keep? You mean…”
“Yes.”
“The girl is now Uka Elsari’s daughter.”
“Uka Elsari?” Sylah had seen the woman run up the five hundred steps to claim her title of warden from her mother, Yona Elsari, mere strikes before.
“You see why you must do this, Sylah? Your grandmother and mother have set up your dynasty and you will follow in their footsteps. You will win the Aktibar. It is in your blood.”
But that meant…
“You are the true daughter of the Warden of Strength.”