The boy made a rude gesture at them, somewhat hindered by the fact that he had only one hand. His left arm ended in a stump, the skin smooth and round.
Sorin’s voice in her mind. She could still remember his exact words, his flat, emotionless tone—back then, she still hadn’t been able to read his expressions. That’s the punishment for theft all through the Empire, no matter the age of the thief.
She almost stopped. Instead she quickened her pace, so that she was right beside Evin.
“Who are they?” she asked.
Her voice was tight with anger, but Evin didn’t slow down. “Abandoned children, probably. Or runaways.”
He said it the way he would have answered a question about what was for dinner. And he hadn’t spared the children a second glance.
Sorin had been a boy like that once. Ileni dug her fingers into the side of her leg. “Shouldn’t someone help them?”
Arxis snorted. “Feel free to be that someone.”
“These children are all over the city,” Evin said. “There’s nothing to be done.”
Ileni sucked in her breath. “It must make life easier,” she said bitingly, “when you just accept everything in it.”
“It does.” Evin gave her a sideways nod, as if pleased that she’d understood.
A week ago, she might have dropped it, with perhaps a snort at his perpetual laziness. She clenched her hands until they hurt. “There must be something to be done. You—you—could make a difference, if you really wanted to. But you’d rather play with lights and colors. I understand.”
Evin smiled, but there was something hard in it. “No, Ileni. I don’t think you do.”
Evin was dangerous, of course—he must be, with the amount of power he possessed—yet she had never, until this moment, thought of him that way. It was an oddly disconcerting realization, even though she was thoroughly accustomed to dangerous people by now. Ileni covered her confusion with a sneer. “What, do you have hidden depths and secret plans?”
He laughed aloud, and the edge vanished, replaced by his perpetual amusement. “If it comforts you to think so, far be it from me to deny it. I have great and noble ambitions. I want to save the world.”
And for a moment, she felt as he did: that it was a ridiculous thing to want.
Her breath rasped painfully through her chest. She faced forward and strode ahead.
After some indeterminate amount of time—long enough for Ileni’s calves to start aching—the streets widened again, and the press of people thinned out. Another sound became audible through the buzz of conversation and footsteps: a rushing, rhythmic murmur. It sounded like a waterfall, but controlled and regular, almost musical.
Ileni struggled with herself for a moment—she was so tired of the condescending looks her questions always elicited—but curiosity won out. “What’s that?”
The corners of Evin’s lips curled up. “You’ll see.”
“Or you could just—” Ileni began, then stopped. Behind Evin, a wiry figure darted between two buildings and out of sight.
She stood frozen, staring at the space between the buildings. An ornate, heavily warded carriage pulled in front of the spot where the figure had disappeared, then rolled on. The space was dark and still. If someone was lurking within it, she couldn’t tell.
“I know you’re not familiar with our customs,” Arxis said. “But if you want to stop and stare at nothing, the middle of the street is not the best place to do it.”
Ileni tried to breathe. There were plenty of thin young men in the capital. There might be some who moved with that sinuous grace. She had only seen that sort of swift, flowing movement among the assassins; but obviously, she hadn’t seen much in her life.
And she had been daydreaming about Sorin so often, it was no wonder she was imagining glimpses of him.
Arxis was leaning back, watching the street. If he had seen anything, he was hiding it well. Of course, if he had seen anything, he would be hiding it well.
“Sorry,” Ileni muttered, and started walking again. She looked around carefully as they made their way down the street, less overwhelmed by the sheer number of people now that she was looking for a single one. But she saw no hint of that familiar form, that swift liquid movement.
When Evin stopped in front of a high black wall surrounding some sort of compound, she forced herself to stop looking. It probably hadn’t been Sorin at all. And she should be glad it wasn’t—it would mean nothing good if Sorin was here.
She wanted to see him so badly she didn’t care.
Evin put one hand on the black wall and murmured a short spell. A surge of power almost knocked Ileni over, and then the wall shimmered and vanished, and she could see right through it to the source of the rushing sound.
All thoughts of Sorin fled her mind as she gaped. Arcs of white spray rose from a flat pool of black water, twisting back and forth in sync with each other, swaying and rising and falling. White mist rose to fill the spaces between the columns of water, and then vanished, in perfect harmony.
“Beautiful, isn’t it?” Evin said.