“The world does not remember what you dreamed of becoming. It remembers what you wrought.”
— Bàkàré, the Iron Harvest
The first thing he noticed was that nobody had brought a weapon. At least, nobody had brought one they wished to be seen carrying.
He counted four figures around the long table, each concealed behind a mask. The fourth sat slightly apart, their plain wooden mask framed by a rain-dark hood, hands hidden in their sleeves. Some wore travelling cloaks still damp from the rain. Others had dressed for an occasion, their garments embroidered with patterns too fine for a gathering in an abandoned building. It was an unlikely assembly for an abandoned dye house.
The chamber occupied the upper floor of an old dye house overlooking a narrow river. Years of indigo work had stained the floorboards blue-black. The vats below had long since been emptied, though rain still drew their bitter mineral smell through the shutters. In another season, workers would have stood beneath this very floor with blue-stained arms, arguing over wages and the quality of the day’s cloth. Tonight their abandoned workplace sheltered a gathering that preferred its business without witnesses.
Beyond the windows, the city went about its evening. Lanterns glowed in distant houses. A boat drifted beneath the stone bridge, its passengers laughing at something he couldn’t hear. The boatman lifted a lantern to guide them under the arch; one passenger leaned out to trail her fingers across the rain-dark water. They seemed entirely certain of tomorrow. He wondered whether those passengers would still be laughing if they knew what was being discussed above them. Probably. Ignorance was comfortable. He adjusted the dark mask over his face and approached the table.
“Not that one.”
The voice came from his left. A broad-shouldered man sat with his arms folded beneath a cloak of dark wool. His mask was hammered bronze, fashioned into an unsmiling face with a heavy brow and a crooked nose. Small holes had been punched around the mouth. The young man paused.
“That seat is reserved,” the older man continued.
He glanced at the empty chair, then at the man who had spoken. There were several other places available. He chose the one beside it. The bronze-masked man watched him settle.
“You’re the new recruit?”
The young man gave a small nod.
“Thought so.”
The older man leaned back.
“You were expected earlier.”
No response.
“Do you have a name?”
The young man looked towards the window. The older man studied him for a moment.
“Not much of a talker.”
Across the table, a woman wearing a mask of glazed blue clay gave a faint, amused hum.
“Perhaps he has the right idea.”
The bronze-masked man glanced towards her.
“Perhaps.”
He returned his attention to the newcomer.
“Then I’ll make this simple. You’re here because someone believes you have something to offer. That doesn’t mean the rest of us have to agree.”
The young man regarded him. The challenge was obvious. He had no objection to a test, only to being judged by someone whose abilities he had yet to witness.
“Understood?” the man asked.
“Yes.”
The answer was quiet. The older man seemed almost disappointed.
“Good.”
He turned away. For a few moments, the chamber settled into silence. Then the silver-masked figure, narrow-shouldered beneath a neatly fastened coat, spoke.
“Did you confirm the route?”
The woman in blue nodded.
“Twice. There were no signs of pursuit.”
“And the others?”
“They haven’t arrived.”
The bronze-masked man glanced towards the door.
“They should have.”
The young man listened. The others kept watching the entrance. The woman in blue had checked the window three times; even the veteran seemed more concerned with the missing members than with him. Then the older man spoke again.
“You.”
The young man looked up.
“Who sent you?”
He said nothing. The bronze-masked man leaned forward.
“It’s a simple question.”
Still nothing. The older man’s gaze narrowed.
“Have you been told not to answer?”
The young man remained silent. The veteran studied him for several seconds. Then he rose. Not abruptly. Not in anger. He simply stood, and the atmosphere of the room changed. Chi gathered around him. The air grew heavy. The lantern overhead swayed slightly, and the wooden table gave a faint creak beneath the pressure. The woman in blue straightened.
“What are you doing?”
“Checking something.”
The older man approached the newcomer.
“Stand.”
The young man did not move. The veteran stopped beside his chair.
“You’re either very confident,” he said, “or you don’t understand the situation you’ve walked into.”
The young man raised his eyes as the pressure mounted. His shadow shifted beneath the chair. The older man’s attention flickered downward. He noticed. Good. Then the veteran reached towards him. The movement was fast, precise and controlled. Not a wild blow, but an attempt to seize the newcomer’s shoulder before he could react. The young man remained seated. His shadow stretched.
Darkness gathered around the veteran’s wrist, curling upwards from the floor. The older man felt the resistance immediately. His fingers stopped inches from their target. For a moment, neither moved. The veteran increased the pressure. The darkness tightened. A faint crack appeared in the floorboards beneath his feet. The young man watched him without expression. Then the veteran’s other hand moved. A second strike.
Much faster. The young man’s shadow rose to meet it.
“Courtesy, courtesy.”
A new voice entered the chamber, warm with amusement.
“A brother has joined the cause. Surely we can offer him a better welcome than this?”
The veteran stopped. Smoke seeped through the cracks beneath the door. At first it resembled the smoke of an ordinary fire. But it did not rise. It flowed across the floor in thin, deliberate streams, gathering beside the empty chair at the head of the table. The young man watched.
The smoke climbed, forming shoulders, arms and a long travelling robe. Gloved fingers emerged from the swirling grey, followed by a smooth white mask. The figure pulled out the chair and sat.
“Forgive my lateness,” he said pleasantly. “I discovered a few cracks in the foundation of our little arrangement.”
He paused.
“I thought it wise to deal with them before the whole house came down.”
There was something unmistakably pleased about his voice. The woman in blue lowered her gaze. The silver-masked figure went still. The young man counted again. Six. He had been told to expect more. The leader glanced towards the veteran, whose hand remained suspended above the newcomer’s shoulder.
“Must I ask you to sit?”
The bronze-masked man gave a low, frustrated growl. Then he withdrew his hand and returned to his seat. The leader turned towards the young man.
“And you. Welcome.”
The newcomer inclined his head once. Beneath the table, his shadow returned to its proper place.
“Splendid.”
The leader folded his hands.
“Now that we’ve settled our introductions, shall we discuss why we’re here?”
The woman in blue leaned forward.
“What happened to the others?”
“An unfortunate difference of opinion.”
“Will they return?”
The leader tilted his head.
“I should think not.”
Nobody pursued the matter. Outside, thunder rolled over the city. The leader produced a folded sheet of paper and placed it at the centre of the table.
“Our efforts have been disappointing,” he began. “We have offered evidence. Exposed corruption. Warned people of dangers their protectors refuse to acknowledge.”
He paused.
“And what have we accomplished?”
“Nothing,” the bronze-masked man answered.
“Not quite nothing. We have learned something important.”
The silver-masked figure leaned forward.
“What?”
“That people seldom abandon what they trust simply because someone tells them to.”
The woman in blue nodded.
“Then we need to show them the truth.”
“Precisely.”
The leader sounded delighted.
“Though I fear the truth alone will not be sufficient.”
The bronze-masked man folded his arms.
“Then let us strike. Make them afraid.”
“Fear is useful,” the leader agreed. “But fear without direction merely creates enemies.”
“Then what do you propose?” asked the woman.
The leader rested one gloved finger upon the paper.
“We give them a tragedy.”
Silence.
“Something their protectors cannot prevent. Something terrible enough that even the most faithful begin to question those they have trusted all their lives.”
The woman stared at him.
“And the victims?”
“A regrettable necessity.”
“You cannot be serious.”
“I assure you, I have considered the matter carefully.”
The silver-masked figure spoke.
“You intend to cause the suffering yourselves?”
“Yes.”
“And then?”
“We save them.”
The bronze-masked man began to laugh. The woman in blue shook her head.
“That’s monstrous.”
“Perhaps.”
The leader’s voice remained gentle.
“But people remember the hand that lifts them from disaster far longer than they remember the hand that caused it.”
The young man watched him. The leader sounded neither angry nor excited, merely practical. That interested him. The woman in blue looked down at the paper.
“How many?”
The leader considered her question.
“As few as circumstances permit.”
“And if circumstances demand more?”
“Then we must ensure their suffering isn’t wasted.”
The woman said nothing. The leader looked around the table.
“I do not ask you to enjoy what must be done. I ask only that you understand why we are doing it.”
One by one, the masked figures fell silent. The young man remained still. The leader’s white mask turned towards him.
“And our newest brother?”
He waited. No answer came. For several moments, the two simply regarded one another. Then the leader chuckled softly.
“A man who prefers to listen. How refreshing.”
He rose. Smoke began to curl from beneath his sleeves.
“Each of you will receive your instructions when the time comes. Until then, enjoy the peace.”
Outside, the city bells began to ring. Across the river, hundreds of lanterns glimmered in the rain. The leader looked towards them.
“Change is imminent.”