Soldiers on every street corner in full body armor, rifles always cradled in their arms rather than slung, made it clear how we were supposed to feel: the sullen, occupied Lathraí once again. They demanded papers from anyone they wished and lashed out with the same impunity. As Sostrate and I made our way to the South Harbor District, we saw the Aristonian Laws in full force: a Lathraí man beaten savagely by two soldiers while their comrades forcibly pulled away a screaming Ieró woman. Neither of us stopped to see if he was still breathing as they let his head finally slump against the curb. What could we do? Besides, with all that blood, his odds were grim.

The woman would be handcuffed and arrested for her association, but her blood purity offered her protection from murder. Not that they were kind to anyone who mixed with us, whatever the circumstances.

I made certain the prayer scarf wrapped over my hair and across my face was well in place. The odds of being recognized were slim, but far from impossible. They’d just pull the cloth away if they wanted to. “It seems like there are a lot more soldiers here.”

“There are.” Sostrate glanced into a broken storefront window, using the glass to check behind us for any prospective pursuit. “South Harbor is more difficult to control, and probably more enjoyable for them anyway. The soldiers make full use of the amenities.” 

The district was still vastly Lathraí in composition, but where my neighborhood was poor, South Harbor was something less than destitute. Half the streets were not even paved, the cramped apartments giving way to tenement housing where a floor would share a toilet. The greasy wharfs butted up against a facade of warehouses, which gave way into dive bars and cheap brothels. Prostitution wasn’t legal, but sailors had certain needs and the soldiers were likely no different. Itinerants and drug users sprawled through back alleys, human wreckage we had to pick our way through.

“Agathe mentioned she was having trouble getting traction here.”

Sostrate glanced over. “Agathe was well educated and excessively neat, with a distinct aversion to violence and always maintained proper manners. Tell me how well that would have fit in here.”

“And so you brought me with you? I was a university student when we met, in case you’ve forgotten.” 

She laughed. “Karsa, look at your hands.”

I glanced down at fading bruises and the bright pink of scars across my knuckles from fighting. “Point taken. So where are we going?”

Sostrate lifted a fence board for me so we could squeeze into a grimy back alley. “The Silver Lining.”

I spotted a faded neon sign just as it switched on for the evening, a pair of red lips lined in silver. The advertising painted on the door was about as crude as one could be without being arrested for displaying pornography in public. “You’re not serious.”

Sostrate shook her head slightly. “We are all in this together. All of us. Besides, Thaïs knows more about what the occupying soldiers are up to than their commanders do. I don’t care how she comes by that information, just that she sent a message saying she was willing to share it.”

I pulled in a deep breath and nodded, pulling the scarf down to uncover my hair and face as I squeezed through the fence. “You’re right.”

“I’m glad you think so. One does not befriend anyone with prejudices, and sex workers have more than enough hitting them from every other direction.” Sostrate slipped through and replaced the board.

“This is their front door?”

Sostrate shrugged. “With the legality being absent, it’s less expensive for a brothel to pretend to hide. You have to pay the polizí more to be obvious.”

I pulled out the pack of cigarettes from Meliton and tapped free a cylinder. It was almost empty, even with careful rationing. “So Thaïs runs the place?” I fished around in my pockets as I spoke, hunting for the book of cardboard matches I’d been reduced to. My lighter was gone, courtesy of sticky little fingers earlier in the district. I couldn’t fault the thief too much: it had been a nice stainless steel military lighter from Meliton.

“She’s in charge of business here, but she doesn’t own it. It’s Kavá-run.” 

I grimaced, feeling for Thaïs in that moment. Being caught between drug smugglers and the polizí was probably not enjoyable. The Kavá were almost always in some kind of bloody battle with either each other or the polizí, sometimes both at once. “Will we have to worry about them?”

Sostrate strode for the door. “I don’t know.” 

I lit my cigarette and followed. “Sometimes, I would like it if you lied.” 

She knocked and the door opened a crack, held in place by a chain not unlike a residential house. Through the gap, I saw the kind of neon lights that make everyone beautiful after a dozen drinks and bottles of alcohol lining the wall that were so cheap their makers had barely bothered to label them. 

“You got cash?” a tiger of a man growled from behind the door, all rippling muscle crammed into a short sleeved shirt and bloodstained cargo pants.

“We’re here to talk to Thaïs,” Sostrate said. Her tone dared him to disobey.

He paused and then shut the door in our faces, but I heard him undo the chain before my frustration could flare. He jerked the door open, staring at us both with as much menace as he could. Compared with a line of riot polizí or an armored personnel carrier full of soldiers, however, he wasn’t much. “Make it quick. She’s a busy woman.” 

“Thank you,” Sostrate said with her usual brief pleasantness, catching my arm by the elbow as she walked to keep us together. She forged on towards the bar.

The place was just barely gearing up for the full night, so the women working here were more dressed than they might have been. Not that the time made much of a distinction: there was still more bare skin on display than I’d ever seen outside of a lingerie magazine.

The Silver Lining existed utterly without pretenses, something that could never occur in so much of Astera, a country that cared so deeply about managing the impressions of the world. I wasn’t comfortable the first time I set foot in it, but I could appreciate its honesty.

Sostrate pulled me up to the bar, knocking on it softly with her knuckles to draw the attention of the young woman tending bar. “We need to speak with Thaïs.”

The bartender turned to face us fully, sweeping away a few strands of hair that had escaped her complicated bun. She was taller than both of us, but only because of her heels, and had the kind of natural beauty classical statues strive to emulate. “You must be Sostrate. Who’s your friend?”

“Karsa.” I kept my voice down, using the bar mirror to watch the door for soldiers. 

Her crimson lips smoothed into a friendly smile. “Let me get you some drinks.” She waved over one of the other women, who looked so young I doubted she could legally drink the alcohol she was about to serve. “Zara, watch the bar.” 

“Yes’m.” 

“Thaïs, I presume?” Sostrate said as the woman grabbed a bottle of liquor and three glasses. 

“Mhmm.” Thaïs had her hands full, so she motioned with her head for us to follow her around the corner of the bar to the back hall. She pushed open a door at the back, right beside the stairs leading up to the private rooms. “Step into my sanctum sanctorum.”

Inside, well-worn furniture was scattered around the square room in a rough semicircle, including an old-style fainting couch beside a very large desert ironwood desk. Several ledgers filled with spidery handwriting were open beside a closed safe and a few empty fruit crates served as foot stools. Soft music hummed through a cracked clairá sitting on the windowsill, faint strings and soft flutes. 

I stepped in behind Sostrate and Thaïs closed the door. When we turned to face her, she handed me an ashtray. “I like this carpet.” 

I took the ashtray, letting the cigarette cover it as I looked down. The rug on the floor was old and moth-eaten, but hints of an intricate pattern told me it had probably been a fine piece of art a hundred years ago. “Sorry.”

She laughed and took a seat on the edge of her desk, pouring us each a drink. She was a woman of quantity more than quality, bringing the liquid all the way to the brim of the glasses before handing them over. “It’s better if you slam it.” 

I looked down at the glass. The smell of raw alcohol made my eyes water from a foot away. “I can’t slam this.” 

Thaïs grinned. “Can’t or won’t?”

Sostrate cleared her throat slightly. “You said you have information that might be of interest, Thaïs.”

The madame slipped into a more serious expression. “I do, but my information doesn’t come for free.”

“I understand that you are taking a substantial personal risk, but we are barely able to put food on the table right now,” Sostrate said honestly. “I cannot pay cash.”

“I don’t want cash,” Thaïs said bluntly. “I want in.” 

For the first time since I’d met her, Sostrate seemed surprised. “On the fighting?”

Thaïs seemed determined, jaw set into a firm line. “If that’s what the revolution needs, yes, but I can do more than that. I have resources, I have connections, I have information. I can get you anything you need in Seisa and introduce you to anyone you want, and you won’t find anyone tougher than me.”

My answer came automatically. “You don’t have to sell yourself to us.” Before she could look offended, I finished my thought. “The revolution is for anyone willing to fight for liberation.”

Sostrate smiled. “I agree with Karsa.”

Thaïs studied us both, carefully weighing our sincerity before smiling. “That was easier than I thought it was going to be.”

“You didn’t even have to get us drunk,” I said, managing to crack a small smile.

“Honey, I was going to be hospitable whether you agreed or not,” Thaïs said, relaxing more. “It just was going to be a matter of if you woke up on the couch or the sidewalk.”

Sostrate took a seat in an old armchair and made herself comfortable. “Was there a reason you didn’t tell Meliton that you intended to join us?”

“I didn’t want to say anything in public and I have a strict no-hands rule, so pulling him into the back would have looked suspicious.”

I put out the very last bit of my smokestick. “No hands?” 

Thaïs flashed me a grin at the question. “Simple, honey. You can look, but you can’t touch. I’m supposed to be looking after business, not customers.” She seemed to focus back on business immediately. “If we want to fight, we're going to need weapons.”

“We have rifles and Linos has finished construction of a number of portable mortars,” Sostrate said. “Munitions are harder to come by, but we have a stockpile. We have some capacity to reload ammunition from spent casings and a few people who understand chemistry. What else can you suggest?”

“For enough money, you’d be surprised how many crates just fall off the backs of trucks.” Thaïs leaned forward slightly. “Give me some time and I’ll see what we can do. Corruption is the rule in Seisa. Might as well have it work to our advantage.” 

“And the criminals and soldiers?” I asked, trying not to be indelicate.

“Oh, they’ll be a problem,” Thaïs said grimly. “But mostly to each other at first. Though...the captain who was in last night mentioned doing something to the community gardens if the protests continue. He meant it, too.” 

My face hardened. “If those gardens are destroyed, we will starve, slowly and painfully. They can blockade off the districts, they did it after the bombing and that was just with polizí.”

“Then we will not wait for them to come to us,” Sostrate said firmly. “If they are allowed to be the aggressor, they will be able to choose when and where they want to fight. The deck is already stacked in their favor, let us even it.” She looked to Thaïs. “For the time being, keep ears and eyes open. Karsa will be your point of contact, she’s very dependable.”

Thaïs winked at me. “We’ll be best friends in no time. Get me a wishlist of what you think you need and I’ll see what I can do.” 

Sostrate and I thanked her for her hospitality and departed. I saw several well-loved copies of Agathé’s little paper on her desk, tucked partially in the pages of the open ledger as we left.

I didn’t know if we should really trust Thaïs, but I hoped that we could. The fight would be so much harder if we couldn’t.