Chapter 21

V ala stared at the Exchange Floor. A dark ripple coursed through the field of glowing lights. It was subtle but the heave, unmistakable. Like an ocean innocently swelling upwards before hitting the shore with a great, obliterating wave.

Heep leaned towards the prince. "Your Highness, perhaps the palace would provide better entertainment for a prince such as yourself? Things are about to get a little busy here for the next couple hours."

Rafeal ignored him. His fingers tapped the desk in some bemusement as he analyzed her with cool eyes. "Ah yes, I had nearly forgotten why I came here. I wanted to ask you about something Helen said."

Maybe he had taken her words to heart. "Look, I just told you what I heard. She likely doesn't mean you any harm." She fixated on the runes, trying to ignore his scorching gaze.

His fingers stilled. "No, no, not that . She said something about your lover that I found to be…interesting."

She looked around, hoping someone would rescue her from this conversation. Everyone seemed busy. "I'm not Luiximor's lover." She kept her voice down but the words dripped with hate.

His mouth curled into a small grin at her loathing reaction. "I refer to the masked assassin. Helen said you were obsessed with him."

She looked at him with some disbelief. Had he made this trip only to satisfy his fascination with the mysterious killer of Titus? "What about him?"

Rafe's smirk widened as he leaned forward. "I'd wager a Jumun pearl the assassin loves you deeply to risk so much and for such little gain."

Her heart skipped but she only frowned. "Nonsense. Why would you say that?"

Beyond him, another heaving flicker ran through the Floor's lights, faster this time and with greater intensity. She could feel the gasping pain in the air, the increasing awareness of the diminishing sunlight by the feeding rune plants in the Dynn. Traders were busy, slapping the buttons of the machines, quick to enter equations, papers tightly grasped in their hands. The time drew near and a prince was interfering with her plan. A prince who even now was talking, legs casually stretched out and arms folded as if they dined on some lazy, pleasant luncheon?—

"—Well, the emperor was furious to discover the masked rogue's Dynn entry rune imprints in your bedchamber. You really should not have welcomed a mysterious assassin into your rooms. It did not help your image as empress nor that man's desire for longevity, although the life of an assassin is typically quite short."

She glared, desperate to get back to her tasks. "What is your point?"

He paused, seemingly shocked by her angry interruption. " Anyway …Luiximor is eager to determine his identity. He's afraid the saucy villain plans a rescue of you…to steal you away and use you against the empire as a weapon of sorts. The palace is crawling with a manhunt at this very moment, if you must know. They're trying to pick up his Dynn trail and track him down." He stated the information as blandly as relaying the weather and his fingers returned to a steady rat-tat-tat on the table.

Her heart thumped hard. Luiximor would brutally torture and kill the Masked Man and in front of her if possible. She must not say a word that could get him into further danger.

As if enjoying her worry, he grinned. "The good news is that his identity will probably be learned by nightfall. Would you like that?"

She felt like slapping him. He had tried to trick her into talking about the Masked Man only to laugh in her face about his impending capture and death. All the old feelings of rage came rushing back. "Look, you came and said your piece. Now, please. Leave me alone. I have work to do."

Already traders had left a small pile of papers on her desk. There was now a dimness to the room, a sharpness of shadows that she had not noticed before. She knew the moons drew close together, homing in on the trajectory of the morning sun. The eclipse was only minutes away, not that the arrogant fool before her cared or even understood the immensity of what was happening. Never mind what she planned.

Heep jumped in. "Yes, Your Highness. She is of great need to us and can spare no time for further talk, even with a royal dignitary such as yourself. I'm sure that you understand."

The prince heaved himself up, knocking Heep back a few steps. "My Lord Victor, you are quite right. I will leave you to your oh-most serious work. Frankly, I need a good party to drown away all this drab soberness in a bucket of beer. Well, good luck today, butterfly!" His hand merrily clapped her back.

She bit her lip hard but a gasp fled her lips at the pain.

"Are you alright?" The prince frowned in grand dismay. "I swear that I just gave you a light pat."

"Leave me the fuck alone." She hissed. The broken skin throbbed abominably again. Wetness upon her skin hinted that?—

He frowned upon her jacket. "You're bleeding," he quietly said.

She savagely smiled through the fire lancing across her shoulders. "Well, maybe I woke up this morning and decided my wings just had to go."

Heep stared at her with something like disgust. The prince's mouth curved into a twisted grimace. Good. Perhaps the sight of blood was the shock of reality he needed. She broke from his gaze and turned her attention to Joe's trade. She had one of her own to execute.

Greeta. She did not need to pull forth the paper upon which the servant had scrawled her future runes, her memory sufficed just fine, recalling each rune's placement as though they existed before her vision. Yes, it was time to test Joe's allegiance.

She hunched over his trade and altered it, entering Greeta's runes, building them together, block by block, to ensure Greeta's remaining days would be spent in happiness and sunlight. She would demand the trade entered. It was the best way to test Joe's loyalty, to see if he would allow her to trade freely and as she wished. Maybe they would electrocute her. Maybe not. She only hoped that Heep would wait until the prince left. She had no desire to fall into agonized convulsions in front of Rafael's smirking face. She finished scribbling out the equation needed to encode Greeta's trade into the machines.

When Joe hurried past, she shoved the paper into his hand. "My answer is ready."

She watched him go to the switchboard and examine the trade. He glanced over his shoulders at her and for a moment, she doubted herself. Then, with quick stabs of his fingers upon the buttons, he entered the trade. The lights flashed as the machine encoded the instructions for Greeta's rune plant.

She breathed a sigh of relief for Greeta but mostly for herself. Joe was on her side then. With a thin glance in her direction, Heep strode over to Joe. He wrested away the paper and studied it. She grimaced. No…no, not good.

Heep returned to her desk. Here it came then. Punishment.

Rafeal casually stretched his arms, his face a beaming smile in the gloom, strikingly at odds with the hubbub of the Floor below and the bustle of traders frantically working around them. "Well, whatever is the matter, my Lord Victor? You look so stiff and boring."

Heep ignored him. "Joe Blathers may not care if you help an imperial servant retire but we have no time for sentimentality when the empire is at stake. What is wrong with you? Are you feeling giddy from a night in the imperial dungeons or did you really think you could simply trade whatever you wanted and we would not care?"

She remained silent, burningly impatient to enact her revenge. Any word from her mouth would either delay or worsen the situation. She must suffer the pain so she could be allowed to return to her work, uninterrupted.

The prince watched them both with cool, alert eyes. Joe conveniently remained out of sight, busy and likely unwilling to see the punishment. A small fear niggled her. Perhaps she had been wrong about him.

Heep nodded to a guard. "Five seconds the first time."

She braced herself for the hit but she had no time.

An intense fire shot through her body, burning every nerve with swift flame. Her arms rigidly thumped upon the desk and her head flung back under the shock as white and black lights flashed upon her vision. All the world thinned into one, long, drawn-out stab of pain and she lay pinned and unable to do anything but suffer. A long lost memory smacked her mind, unbidden. It was a pain she had felt before and from HIM…Heep. In a prison cell…years ago and he had been smiling. As suddenly as it came, the pain vanished but the memory stayed. She breathed heavily, slumped over her desk, her nerves hot and jangled and hatred in her heart for her tormentor.

"Enter a rogue trade again and I will raise it to ten seconds. " Heep's voice echoed as if from a distance.

She felt her awareness return further and blinked. Drool lay on the desk from where her numb lips had lain. She wiped her mouth and met Rafeal's gaze. He stood with arms crossed and his jaw clenched so hard, a cord throbbed in his neck. Perhaps the pain gave her a sense of awareness for she could have sworn a glint of murderous fury shot through his face. Deep confusion smote her and the feeling vanished.

Rafael turned to Heep, his inane guffaw shattering the silence. "Damn it all, Lord Victor. And I always assumed us Thevians were the barbaric ones."

"Your Highness, our countries have their own methods of discipline." Heep's tone sounded annoyed.

"Yes, but electrocuting over trade errors is fairly extreme, is it not, my good lord?"

Heep's mouth pinched into a thin line. "Does not the Thevian temple torture their Sanuri to help them attain insight into the future of rune growth?"

"Yes, they do indeed and I agree with you. It is a stupid and cruel practice. But the Sanuri are willing participants. I'll say, the woman doesn't exactly appear to like it."

Despite everything, Vala was a little glad he didn't call her a girl like everyone else. Doing so only added insult to injury and she was so sick of being humiliated all the time.

Joe interrupted. "Your Highness, I must beg you to depart to allow us the privacy with which to perform trades on behalf of the emperor. Please, accept my apologies for the inconvenience."

Rafeal looked with some amusement on Joe. "No need to bother my future brother-in-law. I'm heading out now. There will be a splendid party on the palace terraces to celebrate the Noventury. Of course, it's already an abysmally dark day. Weather here is really just disgusting. It has rained every day since I landed."

She wondered if Rafael would be surprised when the four moons covered the sun and the world turned black as night. She glanced up at the glass roof, noting the dimness upon the silver-glass skyscrapers. At first, she thought her vision was still recovering from the electric shock. The cold morning had darkened further, stark shadows lengthening the gloom into an unnatural dusk. The high moment of the eclipse drew nigh.

"Yes," she repeated to herself. Her body still throbbed from the electricity but her thoughts were strangely clear, "It IS always raining in Ovgarod." Or snowing. Sleet. Indeed, precipitation of all measures except the appearance of an actual, sunny day. As the sun god, Luiximor had long ago stopped bringing enough sunshine to his lands. But, why? Did he seek to punish his people or was he…simply not as powerful as he used to be? She looked downward to catch Rafael curiously gazing at her, a thin, discerning twist to his lips.

Joe stepped forward. "Your Highness? Please..."

The prince shushed the man and bowed elegantly to her. "Yes, yes, I'm leaving. Oh, and creature? Do behave yourself today. There will be a gala tonight with heaps of dancing. It will be such fun. You will be expected to put your best foot forward." He laughed once more as though telling a special joke. "Don't get punished to where you can no longer stand from electric shock."

She ignored him, focusing upon the blank paper before her. It was nearly time. Rafeal must have left the room since she heard the door close and Joe cursed all princes and royalty. She was not surprised to hear agreement echo from the other traders. Shouts rang out from the Floor.

"It's falling!"

"The runes! Look!"

A great clamor arose. Joe and the other managers rushed to the window. She watched along with them, thoughts of royal Thevian idiots gone from her mind. The eclipse grew in force. Above the heavy clouds over Ovgarod, four moons pulled into one, great, celestial lineup, blocking all sunlight across the vast mainland. The glass roof darkened significantly, casting everyone into twilight. The heavens moved further and the darkest night fell. She saw the sky above them turn black.

Across the Floor, the lights flickered and blinked, slowly at first, and then with increasing ferocity. Everyone did everything at once. Phones were shouted into, yells burst forth across the room, hands gesticulated, and people ran from station to station across the Floor. Some traders stared, horrified, at the darkening pillars of runes while others looked into the abyss with rugged fortitude. Only the great machines stood empty. Their calculations took too long and the market was falling.

Across the Floor's expanse, the lights blinked out of existence one by one. It was as if a great cloud slowly covered a starry sky and with it, brought the darkness of impenetrable night.

Her heart plummeted. So, this was what a market crash felt like. The utter fear reverberating from everyone numbed her bones. A black pit of an unknown, unchartable future yawned before them and there was no guiding path to lead them out. None except for a strategy, existing only in minds and on paper, the route towards reality still obscured. She did not need to imagine the Dynn to picture the sheer magnitude of risk that now lay heavy in the runes. The final lights upon the columns flickered and then winked out of existence as, in the Dynn, millions of runes also began to die, their futures vanquished by the loss of sun power.

A trader slapped a paper upon her desk. "Give me the answer for this unloading. Two million runes to be sold in blocks of ten. Now, before their worth falls further."

She flung her mind behind the work. More problems hit her desk and then, too many requests for her to complete. Managers bent over the papers she submitted, reviewing her work and traders plugged her equations into switchboards, leveraging them against the tumble. She had never worked so hard or so fast, and a deep, thrilling apprehension began to overwhelm her.

The moment for her trade approached. The clock rang eight minutes into the eclipse's heart; the darkest moment had arrived, the market's turning point. She pulled a paper towards her. The time had come. The paper upon which she delicately drew a particular string of runes, the most beautiful equation she had ever created. The rune she had seen once before, held before her like an apple, Luiximor watching her as she studied its stone furls. Her signature rune. The rune of her birth.

She focused until she was done. Only then did she notice that Joe had stood beside her, watching her work.

He wordlessly picked up the paper and for a long moment, gazed upon the string of runes. She had been exact. Her memory had served her well once again.

He folded the paper. "Do you know what this means?"

She nodded. She had based her life upon that trade. Indeed, if that trade was entered, her life would soon be over. What had she said last Friday night to a blustering Titus? "All traders have a type of code or signature they use for trading runes. That's how they communicate around the world's exchanges." She had written an equation that linked all the other trades she had entered into one, masterful, owning trade. And to this master trade, she had applied her signature.

It was imperial treason in the most profound and basic sense of the word.

But most of all, it was REVENGE.

Joe frowned and she could see the thoughts churning in his mind. Greed and fear, confusion and awareness, risk and reward. Greed for the reward, especially. He stood looking at something no one else knew in all the exchanges around the world and was utterly unprovable except by two people—Luiximor and Vala. Two people who would soon be dead. He could trade upon such insider knowledge and make a personal fortune, easily covering his tracks. Of course, if anyone found out that he had made his future money by permitting treason against the emperor, his forfeited life would be the least of his concerns. But there was no reward without risk, this was the core principle of the rune trader. The question was, would he take the bait? Of all the people she had intended to plant the trade upon, Joe stood to be her best bet.

"Joe, I can tell you where I found that information—" she began, testing out his response.

Joe quickly held up his hand. "No, don't. Say nothing more. Flowers, I am not a religious man but gods pray that I'm correct in doing this."

"It's best this way, Joe," she whispered, keeping her face down and expressionless so as to not attract Heep's attention. Could the trade work? No one had ever done something like she had just recommended…taking on the all-mighty sun god emperor. But then, a ten-thousand-year eclipse was no ordinary event and a god, no easy target.

"Better than the evil I know, is that it?" Joe also kept his tone neutral and moved his hand as though checking the runes line by line. She knew he was also aware of Heep's gaze and worked to not attract his attention.

She focused on him, her words soft and carefully chosen. "It's time for change. You know it and so do I. The empire may recover today but the bad weather will return and people will suffer. I'm going to die after my runes are purchased into the empire's portfolio. You can enter the emperor's signature or mine in that trade. But this way, you're doing the empire…and yourself…a favor."

She saw her words take root in his face, watched his shoulders stiffen as he crossed to the center board. Heep watched her but he had not glanced at Joe. Her heart beat hard as she eyed him plug in a series of runes. A string of lights flashed momentarily and faded. When he turned away, she saw his face looked haggard, as though he had aged ten years in a minute.

She sat back with a heavy sigh. It was done. She wondered if death would surprise her or if she would feel its onset before the end. The Masked Man may look to rescue her, but it would be too late.

As she pondered this, the Floor had begun to awaken. The sky above turned from black to indigo. The lights flickered and the switchboards burned with fresh rune activity, flaring forth upon the pillars in renewed strength. Deep within the undercurrents of the Floor, some great beast grew, eating up the runes with famished, burning desire. She could see people gain hints of its existence. Imperial existence. Deep, intense pulses of multi-colored lights ran through the pillars, brightening and blinking with furious, fresh strength. The empire's holdings were rushing back in full force. What had been a lull during the depths of the eclipse, roared into a frenzy as the runes fed upon the renewed daylight; the sunfire of the empire. Potent and supreme, the imperial holdings were sprouting within the Dynn, runes unfurling to the light, regaining their grip upon the world's future.

Traders swiftly responded to the event. She looked at their faces, trying to discern what they saw in the rebounding runes. Was it fear, elation, surprise, or greed? She wanted to know before death came for her. But all was hustle and mayhem. A thousand emotions rose from the din but none of them enlightened her.

She wanted to sit back and wait to die. There was no need to strive now, not when the market's surge preceded her demise. But Heep would only torture her. Better to work. Papers stacked upon her desk, trades needing their inputs sorted for the machines, equations with complications to sort…she threw herself into the solutions.

She completed her equations and shoved papers back to the managers and traders, writing like a machine. The long minutes passed, the final remaining lights returned to the pillars, flickering then hotly glowing with their brethren. As the sky above them lightened and daylight shone forth gold-bright, the traders of the Imperial Exchange bought and sold runes based upon a new age. A future of new wealth and possibility as the empire emerged, powerful and young, from the wreckage of the eclipse. As with all feasts, the hubbub soon abated. Traders sighed and swung their tired arms, rubbed their eyes, and high-fived each other with laughs of relief and glee.

Finally, the papers stopped coming.

She shakily sighed as she handed over the final paper to a waiting trader. The empire remained strong…and she was still alive. Surprisingly…for, if she lived, so must Luiximor. But that was impossible. Either Joe had done something behind her back or the effect of her equation took longer to kick in than she had estimated.

From the corner of her eyes, she noticed Heep slip to the door. Where was he slithering off to? Had he known? Was he going even now to inform Luiximor of her trade? Had Joe entered the trade at all? Thoughts filled her with dread. In the dungeon, she had traded her life to be the emperor's slave. He may kill her or let her die today. He may marry and torture her for years. Exhaustion and grief filled her. Corina too would suffer and it was entirely her fault for desiring revenge.

Workers broke into cheers, clapping as the market bell rang, the end of trading. The sweaty faces and damp palms were visible, hair lank and eyes rimmed in hollows. The sickly aroma of sweat and fear lingered upon the air, a memory of the day's horror. A few of the traders shook her hands. Others nodded appreciatively, even sympathetically her way. She found their adulation strange and ducked her head away from further proffered hands. They simply thought she had helped them with the trades, not with her life as well. Her arrogance had also condemned Corina. For why was she still alive? The trade must not have been entered after all.

The guards hauled her away, down another corridor, and shoved her into a small room. Several servants in palace livery greeted her. Clothing and a makeup station had been erected among abandoned chairs and draperies. The bandage had matted to her back, and she gasped as they tore it off. For a moment, blood ran down her back and then she felt the familiar, tingling sensation. The sensation from the medicinal magic smoothed upon her skin, healing her.

The outfit, a sky-blue gown, hugged tightly at the waist, with billowing skirts that flowed out to the floor. Jewels twinkled within the tulle depths and embroidered butterflies peeked from the short, puffed sleeves. There was no attempt to conceal her tattoo now. The servants brushed out her hair and pinned it into an elegant, coiffed updo with several curls falling down her back. Crystal shoes were fitted upon her feet, magnificent and deeply uncomfortable. She was being transformed into a spectacle , she realized, and hated the outfit with a passion. The servants fussed over her makeup as they left the room and hurried through the empty corridors to the black car waiting for them.

But there was a crime scene outside the Exchange. Emergency vehicles were parked at the entrance and a section of the pavement was roped off. A ladder had been mounted upon a lamppost—medical personnel helped down a body that had been sliced and carved until the skin hung in tatters and the clothing lay drenched in blood. She shuddered in wonder and horror. The face was an unbearably exposed skull, the flesh hacked off, but she immediately recognized the corpse's pallid hands and straw hair. Professor Heep. Someone had meticulously gutted and skinned the imperial advisor then tied him up. It was a ghastly sight and she felt glad to see it.

Because of Heep, she had been sentenced to those years in prison. Through him, her runes had been stolen away, grafted into the Emperor's future with the full knowledge of her impending death. He had participated in her sentencing and tortured her for years. He was the core of all terrible things in her life. Someone knew this and punished him and she knew exactly whom.

The Masked Man.

A terrible, sweet feeling of relief broke over her. Heep had lingered in every aspect of her past and future like a loathsome stench. A nightmare that she had finally awoken from. She would never have to deal with him, ever again. A blessing for the assassin welled upon her quivering lips. Prince Rafael had been right. The Masked Man still looked out for her, watching and caring, even if from a distance. He would continue to protect and defend her as she journeyed back to the palace and faced Luiximor.

One last time.