Corlu
The ramifications of the extension of the Xyraeli work holiday to the entire colony were immense. In the quieter districts, it had little effect besides maintaining the status quo. Which, of course, was its object. But in Corlu, the paradgim had shifted. Everyone had expected a violent response with overwhelming force arriving from Istanbul. Failing that, everyone was sure the i'va'ksh would descend upon the city in a bloody frenzy. But this behavior amounted, in the eyes of many (in this city), to a concession. And the Davet's propaganda continued to emphasize this.
Thus, in the absence of violent retaliation, in Corlu a new State was being built. The presence of i'va'ksh on the perimeter of the city hadn't prevented the Davet from organizing their hastily gathered bands into a proper army, with an additional hundred and fifty volunteers (for a total of about 450, not counting turned i'va'ksh, who have so far remained with their units). Others took advantage of the holiday to become more acquainted with the new party in power, some for the first time. In Corlu, at least, the policy was playing right into the revolutionists' hands.
And yet there was no way for these thoughts to spread to the District. All the local organizers remained bottled up in Corlu. They were doing vital work, but the other municipal branches were languishing, and support for the strike was drying up as the necessity for it seemed to diminish in the outer cities. Something would have to happen soon, or the new government in Corlu would remain isolated and impotent, soon to be turned upon and crushed.
Istanbul
"Who are you?"
Abaza and Mualla had fled with most of the fighters into the deepest slums of Istanbul. These were the areas farthest from the prosperous waterfront, the areas protected by the military, the areas now being secured. This part of the city stank like the sewer it had been allowed to become, but it was not considered particularly valuable, and was not yet under attack. They could talk here.
"My name is Mualla. Do you know what happened to her?"
They both knew who Mualla meant. Abaza's conscience was heavy with guilt, he shook his head mournfully.
"I saw her being led away, into the tortise. I don't know what they did with her."
Mualla looked at the floor of the tenement in which they had taken refuge. All around them fighters were preparing to defend the building, making a dreadful clatter and bang in the process of doing so. For them, this was the place to make a last stand. Worthless as it was, there could be no possible retreat; they were cut off. But for Mualla, the noise seemed muted, the colors blured, the smells strangely more pronounced by grief. Suddenly, she remembered something, something important, something she never should have let herself forget. She had left Suphi.
Another part of Istanbul
Suphi had not remained in his home. Hearing the sounds of fighting and the roars and shreiks of the crowd, he knew he could not stay in his home and live. It would be hit by a shell, or occupied by someone sooner or later. At first, paradoxically, he was paralyzed by this knowledge. But as the crowd noises died away and the more grotesque sounds of warfare drew ever closer, it galvanized him. He left the building, ran to the street.
What he saw appaled him. There were few non-combatants in the streets anymore, almost all of them having fled. He, Suphi, was stuck in the middle of the two armies, and, not knowing where to go, ran towards the place he had always known shells would never fall. He ran towards the Xyraeli side of the line. Suddenly, he was staring into the face of an exhausted-looking man with streaks of soot blanketing his pale moon-face.
somewhere on the coast, Edirne District
Sabite stared out to sea, hearing the choppy waves of the Aegean Sea batter themselves against the coast. Two days ago she had been approached with a curious message: if she wanted to strike a blow for her cause, she would meet someone on this spot to discuss an exchange of mutual benefit. Those, the messenger said, were the exact words he had been told to repeat. She had paid his fee and he went away again, leaving her harassed as ever. The work holiday had created a major obsticle for her organizing of the strike in this District. Everything had to be done to distract the Xyraelis from the cockpit in Corlu, and from what she could tell, Abaza wasn't doing too well.
Abandoning everything else, her mind focused more and more on the curious message. Who would want to help her and the Davet? Of course, there were powers interested in the downfall of Xyrael, but none of them would be so short-sighted as to back a group dedicated to world revolution. Would they? And yet, the message had a ring of artificiality about it, as if it were deliberately worded to sound more impressive, more mysterious, as if the speaker had aspirations to superiority as well as an inferiority complex. Myrorian.
The dry land breeze flew out of the east, blowing her long black hair out of its bounds and across her face. Slowly, slowly, Sabite began to discern a crunching noise, as of shingle beneath boots. Her contact was coming closer.
The middle of nowhere
Aygen woke before Strelok, and noticed immediately her throbbing ankle. A throb, however, was better than the aching knives that had lanced through it yesterday. She tried to sit up, failed, and ended up with a bumped head for her trouble. She noticed that Strelok had let the fire go out, that he was sleeping, snoring loudly, on the other side of the fireplace.
Aygen was powerless to direct her course and she knew it. She was in a strange country, with strange people, with no physical capacity to act for herself, at least for a while, and with no goal even if she did have the power to reach it. She would have to let herself be taken along with the current, much as that conclusion rankled. Aygen felt around her for the broad shaft of wood Strelock had brought her, unburnt, from the wood pile. Gripping it firmly, she levered herself up, groaning as she did so, and was able to take a few hobbling steps using it as a crutch. As she was getting acclimated to this new way of walking, she heard Strelok wake up.
