Face to face with another Rudderkin.
A swell of dread filled my gut as Benji looked at me. It was a look of blind trust. I knew that he would follow whatever direction I gave him. And that power terrified me.
“I didn’t make that choice,” I told him, my voice hardly louder than a whisper. “At least, not right away. It was made for me by someone I thought I could trust.”
Benji’s brow crinkled with confusion.
“They made you fight?”
“Yes,” I answered plainly, wanting to remain truthful with the boy. “And that was wrong. No one should be forced to do anything they don’t want to do. That’s the entire reason that the rebellion started. The Unseen have been made to do many unpleasant things over the centuries by other Magi. Now, we’re trying to make that stop.”
“By killing the other Magi, right? The ones who are making us do the things we don’t want to?”
“Only when necessary,” I explained. “We always try to use words first. But the other Magi can be… stubborn. They didn’t want to listen to us. They saw our want for change as a threat to their way of life. Now, they understand that there are Unseen nolonger willing to quietly obey. That we are Magi, just like them, and deserve to be treated as such.”
Benji nodded slowly, as if he were digesting what I’d told him. The dread in my gut continued to roil. Had I shared too much? The boy was too young to grapple with the reality of our situation.
“I understand, I think. But what help can I be if I don’t fight?”
“We need all sorts of help. Tell me, Benji, what is it you like to do?”
“I’m a good runner. Thad says I’m the fastest kid in the city, though I think he might just be saying that because he’s my brother.”
I chuckled, dampening some of the swelling dread. “That’s good. What else?”
Benji scratched at the space between his pointed, feline ears. “I don’t know. What would you do if you weren’t the leader, Azrael?”
My thoughts drifted back to this morning and my time spent working the soil of the flower beds back in Paradise. I couldn’t recall the last time I’d felt such peace.
“I’d be a gardener, I think.”
Benji snorted a laugh that quickly faded. “Oh, you’re being serious.”
“Yes. I never picked up on my father’s craft in the kitchen. In fact, I was quite awful at it. But working in a garden always felt like home to me. There, I learned to take something desolate and void of life and transform it into something beautiful. To touch the soul through color and fragrance.”
We rounded another corner, and the tall steeples of the Cradle came into view.
“What about this?” Benji reached under his jacket, pulling out a small, tattered book that he flipped open. He turned toshow me the pages, his gaze dropping to the ground as he did. “It’s something I like to do. I don’t know how it would help the rebellion, though.”
I took the book from the boy, studying the intricate sketch of a busy street. The charcoal lines were smudged at the corners, but the detail he captured made it feel as though the figures on the page were going to walk right off the page. I flipped to the next page, and it was a sketch of another Unseen boy. He looked taller than Benji, with lupine ears that stood tall on the crown of his head, and a long scar that ran across his left cheek.
“Not that one!” Benji quickly snatched the book back, shoving it into his jacket once more.
“Apologies,” I said, fighting a smile. “It’s impressive work, though. Should you ever choose to share it, then you’d touch the hearts of many.”
“Maybe,” he replied, still averting his gaze from me.
“May I ask the boy’s name?”
“Huh?”
“The one you drew. What’s his name?”
Benji’s cheeks flushed. “Renee.”
“Have you shown him that drawing?”
He shook his head.
