There was a charred scent in the air as Rehs washed. It assaulted him, strong and sharp, and he coughed, trying to rid his mouth of the taste.

The light was red. Usually at this hour, the light was golden, striking the side of the house and making the wood look young. Today it was red, and the home looked… sharp, somehow. Too sharp, like the wrong colors were brighter, and the shadows flatter.

The sky overhead was yellow. A sickly, pale, obscured kind of color, like it was infected. A sign of the fires of last night.

Rehs finished washing his arms in the bucket he had brought, and then, leaving the water blackened by soot, he jumped, snapping his wings down, propelling himself upwards.

Hot air slapped against his face as he rose. It was technically the beginning of winter, but there were no true seasons here in the south. The only thing which changed was the air – it was becoming dry, which didn’t help the smell of smoke and the feel of gritty ash.

And then it was gone. He broke through the haze which coated Helsng, his wings taking him far higher than he usually flew, and he breathed in his first breath of truly clean air.

It seemed brighter up here, and the sky was definitely bluer. Rehs held himself steady, beating his wings to remain aloft. Then he looked down.

Through the yellowish haze, he could make out the entire city. Plumes of smoke indicated where the fires had been, gray clouds curling up from over twenty different points. More than half were in the Maze, and from his view, Rehs could tell which houses they were.

Yen, Eres, Dar, Jyre… all Imperial sympathizers who had unwisely chosen to live in the Maze. A large home in the eastern section of the Maze was also surrounded by smoke, but the house itself seemed undamaged. Rehs looked closer, and scowled as he recognized the building. Eten.

Eten was the aging patriarch of a line of traitorous bounty hunters. He had been a worker once, a farmer like them. Then he had bought his freedom, tried hunting escaped workers, and found that he liked it. Ever since, he had taught his sons and daughters the same hateful work.

And he had built a home here, in the Maze, as if to taunt the laborers, a reminder of what would happen if they ran. Geren was one of his sons. Rehs smiled at that. He had heard Geren had run into two of Einar’s rebels, and not faired well.

It looked like the rebels had tried to burn Eten’s home, but Rehs could see soldiers standing guard outside of it. They must have been forced to retreat, casting aside their torches and lanterns. That was where the smoke was coming from.

Beyond the Maze, smoke rose from the Docks. Rehs leaned forward and snapped his wings back, propelling himself in that direction. As he skimmed the smoke which hung over the city, he could make out what had been burned at the Docks: ships.

Two had been destroyed completely, their hulks still smoking. The rest had been badly damaged, the sails and rigging completely burned away, the decks and sides blackened and charred. None of those ships would be going anywhere soon.

Rehs felt a sense a dark satisfaction. The laborers had done well last night. He only wished he could have helped them… G’shar had kept a close eye on him, and he had been unable to slip away.

The shallow waters beside the docks, just beyond where the ships were moored, seemed to be full of people. More were on the docks themselves, a vast crowd milling and churning. Imperials, hoping to escape. Rehs dove, holding his breath as he dropped back into the haze, and landed on the docks, near the Windchaser.

It had survived, mostly, but it was still damaged from the last fires. Most of the wood was charred, and quite a bit of it still needed to be replaced. The sail lines were worn as well. The boat was far from seaworthy.

“Rehs! Over here!”

Rehs looked for the source of the voice, and finally found it: Yesen, waist-deep in the water, a ways from the docks, beckoning Rehs to join him. Rehs frowned, but leapt out over the water, his wings keeping him aloft just long enough to make it to Yesen. He landed with barely a splash, the water going up nearly to his chest.

“What are you doing?” he asked. “I thought you needed help with the Windchaser.”

“I do,” Yesen said, “but the repairs won’t matter if we can’t leave.” He lifted something out of the water. “Nets,” he said grimly.

They were crudely made – fishing nets knotted with shreds of old canvas bags and other scraps of rough cloth. They would still be effective at stopping a boat though – even one with the shallow draw of the Windchaser.

“Rebels?” Rehs guessed. He remembered Einar had specifically mentioned placing nets and spikes in the water. The idea was probably to hamper supplies and news coming and going from Helsng, and to cause panic amongst the Imperials who were now trapped. But it also meant Yesen was stuck until the water could be cleared.

Yesen nodded grimly. “The soldiers have got us all combing the water, pulling them out,” he said. He jerked his thumb to a nearby patch of water, in which there was a growing pile of refuse – broken nets, snapped poles – whatever the rebels had used to stop the boats. “I could use your help, Rehs.”

Rehs set to work, feeling through the water with his legs, since it was too deep and murky to reliably see through. It was difficult work. More than once, his legs got tangled in a net, and Yesen had to help him out.

G’shar was there, trawling through the water in a similar fashion a distance away. Rehs alternated between watching him and watching the soldiers on the docks, and with every glance, he felt anger grow within him. Finally, he ran into a pole he had been unable to see, lodged firmly in the riverbed, and threw down the net he had been carrying in annoyance, massaging his side.

Yesen glanced over at the splash.

“I’m fine,” Rehs said before he could ask.

Yesen waded over and fished the net Rehs had thrown out of the water. “No,” he said, handing it back to him. “I’ve seen that expression before. Out with it, Rehs. Whatever is bothering you, you’ll feel better.”

Rehs glared at him. “It’s just the Empire,” he said, grabbing hold of the pole and wrenching it out of the mud. “They’re making us do this, when we could be repairing the Windchaser instead.”

Yesen spread his hands. “I couldn’t leave even if she was brand new,” he said. “Not with this stuff in the way.” He pulled up a section of net and threw it on the nearby pile. He turned back to Rehs. “You know that though. That’s not what’s bothering you.”

Rehs glanced at G’shar.

“Ahh,” Yesen said slowly, following his gaze. “A disagreement, I’m guessing?”

“Just the one,” Rehs growled, plunging his hands into the water and coming up empty.

“About the rebellion?”

Rehs nodded.

“Let me guess,” Yesen said, staring into the sky as though it was a mirror which could reflect Rehs’ thoughts for him. “You want to join the rebels, and your father wants to leave with me. Something like that?”

“More than that,” Rehs said with a resigned sigh. “I don’t just want to fight, Yesen. It’s my duty to fight. This is my freedom the rebels are fighting for. I can’t very well just leave.”

“And your father doesn’t understand that?”

Rehs shook his head, glowering at G’shar, who was well out of earshot. “I’ve told him,” he said. “I’ve tried to explain. But he just talks about how it’s dangerous here and we need to leave.”

“Hmm,” Yesen said, reaching into the water and pulling out another section of net. “Sounds reasonable to me.”

Rehs glanced at him. “Which part? Him leaving or me fighting?”

“Both,” Yesen said, pulling a fish out of the net and pocketing it.

“Both?”

“Sure,” Yesen said, glancing up. His weathered face cracked into a grin at Rehs’ look. “You’re not your father, Rehs. The two of you have different priorities. You – You want freedom. You want to see the Empire overthrown. That much was obvious since the season you came with us on the Windchaser. For you, joining the rebellion is a duty.

“But your father… well, he’s your father. He’s the head of a family. For him, nothing is more important than keeping you all safe. That’s his duty.”

“But this rebellion is important,” Rehs said.

“He knows that,” Yesen said, fishing around for more net. “And he believes in the cause, Rehs. We all do. But his family is more important to him. Skies above, if I had a family, I’d want them as far away from here as possible.”

Rehs found a stake with his leg, and gripped it, trying to pull it free. He glanced at his father, a distance away. “Blast you, Yesen,” he said. Rehs had never been able to argue with the old fisher. It was like trying to argue with the sea itself. Yesen said what he believed, and somehow made it sound like indisputable fact.

The pole came free suddenly, and Rehs fell backwards.

Yesen chuckled, and pulled Rehs to his feet. “Don’t feel bad,” he said. “You’re hardly the first person to have a different idea of what’s important.” He handed Rehs the stake, and then began pulling out a thick rope from near his feet.

Rehs took the stake, and then paused, looking at it. It was good wood, about half as high as he was. The tip had been sharpened with a rough blade, formed into a point to puncture the bottom of boats trying to cross. It had been done hastily, probably in the darkness…

What am I doing? Rehs thought suddenly. Rebels had put that stake there. That was what Einar had commanded. Given his way, Rehs would have helped them. And now here he was, removing it.

“I’m glad you’re here, Rehs,” Yesen said, dislodging a sharpened pole as tall as he was. He threw it onto the pile. “And I don’t mean just helping with this or the Windchaser. I know what the rebellion means to you. And there will come a time to fight, of that I have no doubt. But right now… your father’s right. Your safety, your family’s safety… that’s what’s truly important. You being here, it means a lot. Both to me and your father.”

He clapped Rehs on the shoulder, and then began reeling in a length of net.

Rehs threw the stake he held onto the pile, feeling… what? Sickened? Frustrated? Simply angry?

He glanced at his father, a distance away. What was truly important? His father would say family was – himself, Aiiva, his mother. Yesen would agree. And of course they would be right. But there were more important things.

The rebellion wasn’t just the right thing to do; it was necessary. What had he told Taelord two nights ago? That he was doing this for his family? Well, he had meant that. He was doing it for his family. For all the families. For everyone on Valhalla. They all deserved to live free from the Empire. What was more important than that?

He looked around himself, at all the workers diligently combing through the water, undoing what had doubtless taken the rebels all night. Couldn’t they see what they were doing? The double standard they were clinging to?

“I have to go,” he said.

Yesen glanced up at him.

“I’m sorry,” Rehs said. “I just remembered something important I have to do.”

He left without another word, jumping straight out of the water, his wings propelling him upwards. Water streamed off of them as he rose up, over the Docks, through the haze, into the clear light.

He would help repair the Windchaser. But there was something wrong about undoing what Einar had commanded. That he couldn’t bring himself to do. His father could help the Empire undo the work of the rebels if he wanted. But Rehs wouldn’t.