Lysandra's Point of View

Sun that withers the earth, Lucifer was a tad rude when he was impatient. And by a tad, she meant so much that she wanted to strangle him or bury a dagger in his ribs or something similarly entertaining. She could have waited a year or two for another rebel if she knew he was going to be so unmanageable. So sun-witheringly unmanageable.

In the interest of shutting up the arrogant little upstart, she went to the highly confidential Records Room.

"Hello," she said and walked past the man at the entrance.

"I'm sorry," he interrupted. "But I don't seem to have you on my list."

"Oh, dear. My apologies. I think there's another list?. Telling you that I'm a burning Crimson, and if you don't let me in, there's going to be trouble. And if I find a record of me being in here, then that sun-blasted record is going to mark your sad little grave. Or you can write my name on the I-paid-you-so-much-you're-drowning-in-gold list." She tossed him a nice bag of gold.

The man went suddenly pale, and his eyes turned greedy. People were so easy to manipulate.

"Is there anything you need?" he stuttered. "Anything at all?"

"A little peace and quiet." Lysandra replied. "Kick everyone out. Give me the records of entry and then leave the sun-scorched Marble Palace and go make a life in the burning shadeless South for all I care, so long as I don't see your sad little face again."The man did what she asked and bolted like a rabbit. In her best imitation of his handwriting-it was so stupidly tidy-she scrawled Markus and Theseus Crimson-army supplies-in the record of entries. If she were lucky, her mother wouldn't find these until Lysandra was ready for her to. Quite ready.

Armed with copies of the files, she went to meet Lucifer in a similar café as last time.

"We need this information and we need it now," he hissed at her. "And I don't care what obstacles you need to bypass, because we're facing quite a few of our-" She slid a large pile of papers onto the table and raised her eyebrows at him, before ordering a very large coffee with fries.

"I am starving," she informed him. "And tired." He continued to gape.

"What-how-you can't-what? Guards?"

"Unlike you, I am charming enough that they don't seem to mind me." She informed him merrily. "I threatened them, and then bribed them, Lucifer, what do you think?"

"I-err-I-" he stuttered. "Thank you?"

"They've already got weapons enough to shot themselves three times and still go to war with the valkyries times two. These have food. Starve them out." Lysandra then left and turned her remaining fries and coffee into takeaway fries and coffee.

Later, Lucifer would find the bill tucked into the files she had given, and wonder how she had managed to slide it in there without him noticing. And how fries and coffee cost so burning much.

Later, Lysandra would be a tad preoccupied with Nala jumping out of the streets and holding a knife to her throat.

"Way to mix things up," she quipped drily. "Another unscheduled meeting with my blackmailer-but who knows who's holding the knife this time!"

"Quit your blathering. I expect information about Jasper Merson."

"I was given another day." She protested.

"But you've clearly visited the Army Records Room since, by the look of those files in the café."

"And you're clearly working unknown to your Second Rebellion," she smirked. "Put the knife down, Nala. Your rebellion numero dos friends are going to be informed pretty soon about your loyalties."

"I suppose it's a stalemate."

"I don't expect to see you for a while," Lysandra hissed. "Or burning never, I suppose."

"My life was better without you in it, anyway."

Lysandra walked away briskly, eager to escape the knife at her throat. The two women walked away very quickly, but she casually turned back to look at Nala.

"Keep in touch?"

"Totally."

Devious, annonying, blackmailing women needed to look out for each other after all.

------------------

Nala

Nala did not regret her decision to find information about her nephew. It was to him she owed the most loyalty: she had abandoned him, refused to fight against Tarua Teris for him.(It had been a losing fight, but she should have still fought.) She distrusted him, and he proved her wrong. She left him and his uncle and refused to follow their lives again from shame, when she might have saved them.

In so very many ways, she had failed him. She could not, would not, do it again. Nala had lost everything two years ago. Now she had reclaimed some scrap of what had been stolen from her, she could not lose it again.

It didn't matter if this had been a dead end. She would find other paths without her rebellion knowing. She'd get into the Records Room herself if she had to.

But for now, she stole the information on the food supplies from the other rebellion. Nala mused over how to do it: disguise? Break-in? Interception? Lucifer would already be surrounded by his fellow insurgents. The chance for intercepting him was long past. Break-in and disguises were tricky and wholly unnecessary. Spies it was. Zerena would be best, even if she might be compromised. Nala had plenty of others working for her in the Crimsith sector.

They had the papers by nightfall, making her wince. It was just so easy to get this sort of thing from the other rebellion that she wondered how she had ever held hope for it. No, its only purpose would ever be this: serving as a decoy for Tarua Teris. Soon they would die out, giving everything they had to destroy the supply trains. A noble sacrifice, she supposed, but it was unlikely that they would ever see it that way.

The next attacks were planned with perfect precision. Nala and the chancellor spent hours agonising over the first ones to attack, the rebels to send there. Whoever this noble was, she was clever enough to make Nala wish they had been the ones to attain her.

Watching her comrades quietly leave to fulfill their duties, she felt a pang of regret that she couldn't go with them. The chancellor had been specific, though. Sending her had once been necessary, but with their task narrowed down, it was no longer unavoidable. Her value lay, as it always had, with her spies, even if she could fight well. Pacing the room, she suddenly realised she was acting just like her nephew. Jasper had always itched to fight when others went to battle themselves. Her husband-his uncle-had always had so much more patience. Nala smiled wryly. Her nephew had been so much like Peter, but that was a trait that they had always shared.

They couldn't stand people fighting their battles for them.

They had planned dozens of attacks overnight, but when Nala woke the next morning the chancellor's face was pale and his hands shoke.

"Medea doubled the guard." He said, shaking his head. "No warning, no word. Hardly anyone survived."

And with that, Nala's world came crashing down around her.