“We know your betrothal is a sham,” the woman interrupted. “Nautilus’s son can fend for himself.”
“I need Valus’s safety assured,” I said firmly.
She was silent a long moment. “Fine.”
“I have friends who are imprisoned here. What happens to them?”
“Your friends will be freed.”
I held her eyes and didn’t look away. “In exchange for what?”
The woman smiled, a calculating expression flashing through her eyes like the glint of sunlight on troubled water before it was gone. “I’m pleased that you asked.”
~ ~ ~
Sweat trickled down my back as I followed Tallia through the belly of the city, with Meret and two other New Dawners behind me. We crossed a suspended bridge of rusted parts, narrow and slender as a reed compared to the clanging, whirring confusion of machines below. Cogs and gears ground together like a giant, writhing octopus of metal, occasionally throwing up sparks in the semi-darkness. The sound of it filled the air and hummed in my veins, making my teeth shake and my skin throb. I clung to the rail of the bridge as it rattled from our footsteps and felt the pulse of the machines run through my fingers.
We were about to cross into Magmus, which Meret had explained tersely as we’d journeyed down another series of ladders, lifts, and spiraling staircases. Volcanus was a maze of passages through smooth and rough stone, some gleaming and polished black, others rough gray-brown. I felt like a mole, trekking blindly through the earth. No wonder these people dreamed of the sun.
“This is the heart of the city,” Meret called to me as we paused on a platform that perched high above the confusion of machinery. “Volcanus is the head. Below, Magnus is the legs, the arms, the feet.”
I gazed down at the darkness.
An entire other city lay below us, somewhere in that blackness.
Meret pointed at a ladder behind me. “Now,” she said, “we descend.”
The ladder disappeared into a tube of blackness, a single perfect circle in the midst of the cogs and gears grinding and chewing and spitting sparks.
Tallia handed me a pair of gloves. “The sweat of your hands will make them too slick,” she said in explanation.
The heat increased as we climbed down and down and down into darkness. My gloves were made with a fabric that was rough on the outside (“Sharkskin,” Meret explained) and they gripped the metal. Bits of rust flaked off and fell into my eyes. Grit coated my skin.
When we reached the bottom, the hum from the machines had turned into a cacophony that surrounded us.
I felt it to my bones.
We stood in a tunnel threaded with pipes of green, gray, and black that belched steam in blasts. Spears of light punctured the darkness from above, illuminating the steam in streaks.
Meret peeled off her gloves and started down the passageway. “Come. We must hurry.”
Figures dressed in thick, loose bodysuits that covered their entire bodies filled the passages. Helmets with dark visors obscured their faces, and gloves covered their hands. I couldn’t tell if they were male or female, young or old. They were faceless. They stopped their work to watch us pass, and slowly, one by one, they followed, some tossing aside tools as they joined the flow of people building and building into a river of humanity streaming behind us, utterly silent, the only sound the stamp of feet.
It sounded like the flow of a mighty ocean.
The tunnel we traveled fed into another, larger tunnel that arched above us, lit with a green glow. Trains shot past on curving tracks, carrying raw materials in cars the size of lightships. The roar shook the walls and floor.
Meret grabbed my elbow and pointed at a ladder that climbed the wall of the tunnel. She steered me toward it and then climbed up a few rungs, waving her arm for everyone’s attention.
The workers gathered around us, a sea of helmets and visors. A few removed their helmets, and I saw haggard faces, scarred and thin, hungry for hope.
I remembered the stories Keli had told about Magmus and its people.
Meret spoke. Her voice carried across the tunnel, half-drowned by the clang of machines and the thunder of trains echoing through the chamber every few minutes. The faces watched, expectant, almost reverent. More and more workers left their tasks and gathered with the others, the spread of people expanding like a tide. Meret spoke of hard work and hunger. She spoke of hope, and pointed at me. She mentioned another name, one I didn’t know, and how that guide was failing the people.
“We must keep on with our work,” she said. “We must keep this city functioning. I know there have been murmurs of unrest. Of disbelief that the sun does not exist, that we work for nothing. That Nautilus is wrong, and there is nothing but the darkness of the sea outside. But it isn’t true. We labor for hope. That is why we must keep working.”
A strange feeling trickled through me, an uneasy, crawling sensation of disgust. These people were exhausted, dried up, and desperate for something to change. Instead, she was using their devotion to the New Dawn as a carrot. I was her shiny object, someone who’d seen the sun, and these gaunt and wasted souls were devouring it. I looked at Tallia, who was stone-faced. I looked at the people. They watched me, their eyes drawn to the bright gold of my scarf that still fluttered around my shoulders. One, a woman who was barely more than a girl, reached out as if to touch it, but then she hesitated, her fingers curling, and she drew her hand back and pressed it to her chest as if she couldn’t believe what she’d almost done. She was pregnant, her uniform barely fitting over the swell of her belly.
Meret finished speaking, and the people began to stomp their feet and chant. She motioned to me.
“Climb up and wave to them,” she said.
I ascended the ladder, my insides knotting as the weight of all those eyes came to bear on me. A hush fell over the crowd as I reached the rung where Meret stood, and the only sound was the relentless grind of the city around us as I turned and tried to swallow past the clenching in my throat. My tongue felt heavy, my mouth dry, my limbs trembling.
This was the moment I’d come to Volcanus for.
This was for Itlantis. All of Itlantis.
The people stared at me with the hunger of starving children looking at fresh bread. I lifted my hand and they breathed out as one, all of them moving together as if they were puppets strung on the same wire.
“Speak to them,” Meret urged me in a whisper. “Tell them you’ve seen the sun.”
I cleared my throat and looked down at Tallia. She lifted her hand to adjust the cowl of her face cloth, and the black fabric of her garment fell away from her wrist. She had a tattoo—a mark in the shape of an eye. A shudder went through me despite the searing heat, from my scalp to my toes.
The Mist. Here.
I remembered Keli’s words. Have you ever seen someone burned alive by falling too close to magma? I have.
“I’ve seen the sun,” I said, my voice a trickle in the hum.
“It’s so bright you can’t even look at it. It can burn your skin. It’s hot, and the light from it makes the sand warm and the sea sparkle.”
The silence of the people was palpable. They were listening.
What had the soldier said when we were taking the warship? We might as well be back shooting religious freaks on Magmus.
These people were suffering greatly. Perhaps more than anyone else in Itlantis. And who had heard their stories? Who cared about their pain? They were forgotten here in the depths of the sea.
I thought of all the beads in Keli’s hair and I felt ill.
“That’s plenty,” Meret murmured.
But I wasn’t finished.
“I’ve seen the sun, yes, but I’m not magical. I don’t have any powers.”
The crowd murmured. Confusion crossed a few faces. Others shook their heads. Meret gripped my arm.
“What are you doing?”
I ignored her.
“I came here to Magmus on purpose. I sent a signal from my mother�
��s ship and allowed Nautilus to capture me because I had something I wanted to say to all of you.”
They were listening, holding their breath, straining forward.
“I just happen to have been born to a wealthy family. I grew up like you—working hard, falling into bed in exhaustion at the end of every day. I’m not who I am because of what I did, or because I’ve seen the sun. I was a slave in the sun.”
The pregnant young woman stared at me, her eyes luminously blue in her dirty face.
“I was captured by Nautilus’s men and taken below the waves. I was powerless, and alone. I’ve been a pawn in the hands of powerful men and woman who live in gilded palaces. I know it seems like nothing will change, like the world is nothing but darkness and heat. I know what it feels like to be kindling.”
A few people nodded.
I touched my hair. “You wear beads in your hair to remember your dead. Another group of people does that. The Dron. They have a lot of beads in their hair. They’ve had children stolen by... by gilders.”
A woman touched a lock lined with silver beads. Others muttered. The pregnant woman pressed a hand to her belly.
“I see you and I think you must all feel powerless right now. Like pawns in the hands of powerful men and women who use you up like coal to feed their fires of war and wealth. But right now,” I said, “the rest of Itlantis is making alliances. The surfacers fight against Nautilus with Itlantis at their side when his men come to take them as slaves. The Dron, our sworn enemies for centuries, are joining us in pushing back our oppressors. Little by little, we’re making change to keep the ones we love safe. To end the oppression that’s gripped us all for centuries. These cities—Volcanus and Magmus—are the engine that keeps Nautilus going as he attacks the rest of Itlantis. And who keeps this city running? It’s you. All of you. It isn’t magical, special people who will change this world. It’s us. Doing what we can to fight back.”
I drew in a breath. “You can change things right now. You might feel like your only lot is to be burned for the building of others’ palaces, but you can be more. You can do more. You are the ground. The dirt of Itlantis. Nothing can stand if the ground erupts, can it?”
A few fists raised in the air. I looked down and saw that Tallia was listening, her whole body taut, her mouth curved in a grim smile.
I pointed at the trains. “If those supplies don’t go out, then Nautilus can’t build his ships. He can’t fuel them. He can’t wage war on the rest of the sea and put more beads in the hair of the Dron. Magmus can stop this. You can stop this.”
The people began to chant. It was a quiet murmur that grew louder and louder. This time, they weren’t saying my name.
They were saying Magmus.
Some of fringes of the crowd turned and ran toward the trains. They climbed onto the station and pushed into the box where the controls were. Others scaled ladders, heading upward. I didn’t know where they were going.
Soldiers appeared from the passages, come to contain the rabble, but instead of cowing, the people fought back.
“What are you doing?” Meret demanded.
I smiled. “Lighting a fire.”
CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE
I LEAPED FROM the ladder and ran toward the tunnel we’d come from with a group following me. Tallia matched me stride for stride, her garments flowing around her legs and shoulders as she moved among the workers.
I wasn’t sure if I could remember the way back through the maze of tunnels to Volcanus, but in the end, it didn’t matter. The crowd didn’t pause at the peephole of a tunnel we’d come through. They streamed forward toward a gate guarded by soldiers. Others had begun to climb onto the train cars and swarm the tracks. They were like a fire that had grown too hot.
Tallia slowed, watching. “Look what you’ve done.” She sounded proud.
“They were waiting for a spark. That’s all they needed.” I paused. “I saw your mark,” I said. “I know you’re with the Mist.”
“Then you know I will keep you safe,” she said.
She tugged me back toward the ladder that led up through the heart of the city, and I followed her while the workers around us laid down tools and flooded the passages, clamoring at the gates and at the trains.
~ ~ ~
Volcanus was chaos. Formations of soldiers ran past when we reached the main streets. Tallia led me down back corridors and halls and across bridges of metal and stone. We were invisible in the shadows.
“Aren’t we going to the prison?” I hissed as she steered me into a lift marked “garden level.”
“The New Dawners removed your friends from their cell at the same time that you were rescued from that hideous gala, with the help of the Volcanusean nobility your mother knew,” she replied. “Don’t worry. We’ll be with them soon.”
I wondered briefly where Valus was. Had he survived the attack?
“And Nautilus?”
“I know as little as you regarding that,” she said. “But if I had to guess, I’d say he’s evacuated his chambers and removed himself to the war room. He never does his work directly. He’ll be giving orders from afar.”
Resolution filled me as I remembered something Nautilus had said earlier, when I’d been forced to dine with him.
“Where are these chambers?”
Her eyes widened. “Are you mad?”
Maybe I was. I still had my knife if I needed it, the one I’d been gifted. It was tucked into the belt of my dress, hidden beneath the folds.
“Tell me,” I said. “Is there a way to sneak in? You’d know, I imagine.”
She laughed. “You aren’t such a gilder after all. I’ll take you myself. There’s a servants’ hall.”
I put my hand on my knife. “Let’s go.”
~ ~ ~
The hall was padded with thick carpet that muffled our footsteps. Dozens of doors lined the walls, and Tallia explained that they led to various chambers, as a way for the servants to slip in and out without too much noise. “For the governor of the military city, he does like his luxury,” she said. “Of course, it’s a security risk, so only the trusted servants know about and are granted access to these corridors.”
We halted before a door, and Tallia nodded at it. “Nautilus’s personal chambers.”
She caught my arm with her hand before I could open the door. “I’ll wait here and alert you if anyone comes.”
I slipped inside and stopped. I’d expected columns, statues, arches, but instead, the room was small and round, with a simple domed ceiling and a stark desk of stone. Shelves lined the walls behind the desk, and they were laden with books.
I crossed the room to them and scanned the spines, my pulse hammering at my throat. I didn’t have much time.
I’ve collected all of his writings, many of them originals that were once thought lost before I found them, Nautilus had said.
Would Trulliman’s journals be here?
I squinted at the gold-lettered titles. Most were poetry or history books from the look of them.
Where were the journals?
A large, long book with uneven pages caught my eye. I dragged it off the shelf and turned it over. Was this it?
No title. Just a cover of carved bone. I flipped it open and scanned the first page. A scrawl of words. Scribbles. Pictures.
This was it.
The tap of a foot behind me made me turn.
“Just another moment—” I began.
I stopped. It wasn’t Tallia, but Kit.
“Aemi?”
No.
Not Kit.
“You,” I said. “You’re not a prisoner. You’re... you’re free.”
I remembered the doubts Valus had expressed. The doubts they’d all expressed.
No. No. Not my friend.
He held out his hands. “This isn’t what it looks like. The people are rioting—they freed all the prisoners, and I—” He pointed at the book. “You found it.”
The door opened behind him, and Kit scuttl
ed back behind a drapery as someone else stepped into the room.
Nautilus.
He smiled, looking almost as if he’d expected me. “Aemiana. Outside, my soldiers scramble to find you, while here you are waiting for me.”
I reached for my knife. I was trapped against a wall, with him between me and the servants’ door. He would be able to call for help or grab me before I could run.
I needed to talk. Hold his attention while I came up with an idea.
Kit pressed against the wall. He shook his head at me.
“I was kidnapped,” I said. “People in black stormed the gala; they dragged me away—”
“You don’t look like a prisoner now,” Nautilus said.
I was half-hidden by the desk. He couldn’t see that I had the book.
“Why are you here, Aemiana?”
“You’ve lost control,” I said. “The workers on Magmus are in a frenzy. They’re oppressed. They aren’t going to take it anymore.”
“My workers,” Nautilus said, “will listen to me. They are loyal to their leaders.” He clasped his hands. “The question remains, why are you here? Why run into the den of the beast instead of away?” His eyes hardened. “Give me the journal, Aemiana.”
Instead, I ran for the door.
He ran at me, knocking me down. I hit the ground hard, white sparks exploding across my vision. Nautilus grabbed me around the neck, his fingers squeezing against my throat, cutting off my air. I gagged, struggling for breath as he crushed me.
Kit came running from his place at the wall. He slammed into Nautilus.
The pressure eased. I crawled forward and then dragged myself to my knees. Behind me, Kit and Nautilus were struggling on the ground. Nautilus managed to push Kit off.
He felt for the cord on the wall, the one that would signal soldiers. I yanked out my knife and threw it. The blade sank into his hand, pinning it to the wall, and he howled in pain.
“Run, Aemi!” Kit shouted.
Our eyes met, and a thousand books’ worth of words passed between us in a blink. Then soldiers began to pour into the room. One fired a trusket at Kit, hitting him in the chest. He fell, eyes still open.
In Dawn and Darkness Page 16
