Trial by Fire

by Josephine Angelini

  “The shaman?” he asked. Tristan gave her a worried look, like he thought her fever was making her lose her senses again. She patted his shoulder, a lump forming in her throat. She hadn’t had a chance to mourn her lost friend. He’d been there for her when she needed him, but she’d been too late to help him. Much too late.

  “I’m not dead yet, Tristan,” she said roughly through her tight throat. “I’ll make it.”

  Caleb helped put her on the horse in front of Tristan. It wasn’t until she was mounted that she realized she was wearing a different dress. She wondered if it was another one of Esmeralda’s, taken from her pack hurriedly as they rushed out of Purgatory Chasm. She tried not to think too much of the sound Esmeralda’s body had made when Carrick kept dropping her as he tried to make his way up the rope. She saw Rowan mount his horse carefully.

  Why aren’t I riding with you, Rowan?

  You’re still blazing hot.

  Lily noticed that his right hand was bandaged, and she could see the outline of more bandages under his shirt. Her chest shrank with guilt. She let Rowan feel how terrible she felt.

  Are you very badly burned?

  I’ll be fine.

  That’s not what I asked.

  He looked over at her, and his eyes softened when he smiled at her, but he avoided answering her in mindspeak where he couldn’t lie to ease her guilt.

  The snow hissed when it hit Lily’s skin. As they rode, she leaned her head back, resting it on Tristan’s shoulder so she could catch as many flakes on her face as possible. She could sense how tense they were. Rowan’s eyes constantly scanned the trees above them. Tristan stiffened at every noise from the forest. Lily tried to use mindspeak to ask what was wrong, but her head hurt too much.

  “What is it?” Lily croaked. “Are there soldiers out there?”

  “No. Woven nest,” Tristan whispered. His breath was tight in his chest. “Shh.”

  They managed to slip by the nest, and at some point as they made their way as quietly as they could through the forest, Lily fell asleep. When she woke again, she was riding with Caleb.

  “We’re nearly there,” he whispered in her ear. He wiped sweat from his forehead. “Which is good because I think my horse has heatstroke.”

  “Poor horse,” Lily muttered. She wanted to joke with Caleb, wanted to make him laugh and ease his fear, but she didn’t have the energy.

  When they entered the sachem’s camp, Lily’s head was nodding, and her eyes opening and closing on their own. She heard voices and saw row after row of the Outlanders’ armored caravan carts and faces—lots of faces looking up at her anxiously as she and Caleb rode past. Something didn’t feel right. There was something she was supposed to remember about Alaric and his tribe, but she couldn’t.

  “It’s okay, Lily,” Rowan said soothingly. “You’re safe here. I swear it.”

  Lily felt her arms being restrained. She felt her legs being held down as she was lowered onto a cool bed. She saw Rowan’s eyes over hers and tasted something bitter in her mouth. She tried to spit it out but found that she couldn’t. She decided that it would take less energy to swallow Rowan’s nasty brew than reject it, so she did. She tried to tell him in mindspeak that she didn’t like the taste, but her head hurt.

  Lily opened her eyes, but it was so dark she might as well have kept them shut. She was back in the oubliette. Maybe she’d never left. Fear stiffened her spine, and she sat up, clutching at her neck.

  “Lily, what is it?” Rowan said into the dark. She grabbed at her necklace, feeling all three of her willstones but not fully believing they were there. She felt Rowan’s hands on her shoulders.

  “Did he catch you, too?” she asked thickly. “How did he catch you?”

  Rowan’s willstone glowed with magelight, revealing his worried face. Lily looked around and saw that they were in a tent. Tristan and Caleb were with them, and just starting to stir.

  “No one caught us. You’re safe, Lily,” he said, easing her back down onto her sleeping bag.

  “Safe,” she whispered, and wondered if she would ever really feel safe again. “It didn’t kill me. But I’m definitely not stronger.”

  “You will be,” Rowan promised. “You’ll heal if you let us help you.”

  I’m not talking about my body, Rowan.

  Neither am I, Lily.

  * * *

  Juliet tugged at the collar of her dress. She’d never minded the elaborate gowns or the intricate piles of braids and curls on top of her head before, but lately everything about her position as Lillian’s sister seemed to squeeze her too tightly or weigh too heavily on her head. She swirled her ribs over her hips to loosen her lower back and folded her hands neatly in her lap, waiting patiently as she’d always done.

  “Let the prisoners come forth,” cried the bailiff.

  The courtroom was packed with Coven, Council, citizens, and Outlanders, and all turned as one to see the doors of the dungeon open. Sibilant hisses and low murmurs rose up from the mixed crowd. Hakan, Keme, and Chenoa emerged, blinking at the bright light of noon after days spent underground.

  Thomas Danforth rose from his seat at Lillian’s left and waited for the accused to take their places in front of the jury. From her front row seat in the audience, Juliet noticed that the jury was made up entirely of citizens. Outlanders were held accountable to the laws of the Thirteen Cities—they could be tried and hanged like anyone else—but as noncitizens they had no say in shaping the laws that took their lives. They didn’t even have representation to speak on their behalf during a trial. Instead, they were forced to make do with defending themselves, even if they were unfamiliar with the laws of the cities. This had always seemed perfectly natural to Juliet before, and for that she was now ashamed.

  “Hakan, Keme, and Chenoa. You are charged with practicing science,” Danforth said in a sonorous voice. “How do you plead?”

  “Is there any point in pleading with you?” Hakan retorted. “You’ve already made up your minds to hang us.”

  A surge of murmurs came from the courtroom. Lillian raised a hand and all fell silent again. “If you denounce science as evil and give us the names of other scientists, we may show leniency,” she said.

  “Evil?” Chenoa said, shaking her head. “Science is a tool, like witchcraft. It’s people that are evil. But you know that better than any of us, don’t you?”

  The court erupted with noise, mostly hisses and boos, but the few Outlanders that dared to watch from the back cheered Chenoa. Lillian leapt to her feet and strode toward the scientist, her body rigid with rage. The room went silent with shock. The Lady of Salem had presided over many trials like this, but never once had she shown her anger in public before. Not even when she’d hanged River Fall and many had shouted every dirty name in the book at her. Chenoa was different somehow. Juliet knew that Chenoa was the linchpin for all of her sister’s fears; she just didn’t know why.

  “Evil is as evil does, and your brand of science is the most evil because it causes the most harm,” Lillian said, finally controlling herself.

  “Is it evil to try to bring cheap, bountiful energy to your people?” Chenoa countered calmly. “We Outlanders don’t have witches to light our lamps for us. We must find another way.”

  “An evil, impure way,” Lillian corrected. “Isn’t it true that elemental energy creates a dirty byproduct that is dangerous to all living things for thousands of years?”

  Chenoa nodded her head stiffly. “It does.”

  “And that it is very unstable? That even in your small experiments it often runs out of control and creates major damage?” Lillian pressed, her eyes gleaming.

  “Yes. But we’re working on making it safer.”

  “Safer. But not safe. Not entirely,” Lillian said leadingly. Chenoa didn’t answer. Lillian relaxed, leaning back and looking down on her adversary with triumph. “And, isn’t it true that elemental energy could be used in warfare to make an explosion so great that all of Salem could be oblite
rated in a fraction of a second?”

  Nervous whispering rose up from the crowd. Chenoa narrowed her eyes at Lillian. “How could you know that? I’ve never told anyone that. Not even them,” Chenoa said, gesturing to Hakan and Keme, both of whom looked genuinely shocked.

  “It doesn’t matter how I know it,” Lillian said sadly. “All that matters is that I know it’s inevitable if we start down this path. You know it, too, don’t you?”

  Chenoa’s shoulders stiffened. “Not all of us are out to destroy the world, Lady.”

  “All it takes is one,” Lillian said. Her sad expression suddenly changed to pleading. “Which is why it’s so important you tell me who else knows about your work with elemental energy. Please, Chenoa. Turn away from this madness. Give me a name.”

  Chenoa looked at Hakan. He gave her a brave smile of solidarity. Then she looked at Keme. He was scared. He looked so young and fragile, but even still he shook his head at Chenoa, telling her no. They were all ready to die.

  “Juliet Proctor!”

  Juliet stood on shaky legs and met her little sister’s stunned eyes. She was aware that people were shouting and trying to get her to sit down and shut up, but she shook them off. She’d been silent long enough.

  “You want a name? I just gave you one,” Juliet said, coming forward and taking a stand in between Lillian and the three condemned scientists. “Juliet Proctor. If you’re going to hang them, you’ll have to hang me first, Lillian.”

  * * *

  Lily woke up—really woke up for the first time since coming to this world.

  She spent a long time staring at the tent over her, piecing together what Lillian had said when she was dying on the edge of the Charles River. She wanted to believe that Lillian had found a way to lie in mindspeak, but no matter how Lily turned the story over in her mind, it all added up to the same thing.

  Lily was as stiff and sore as if she’d been kicked down a flight of steps. And for once, she was actually chilly. She staggered up off her sleeping bag on unsteady feet and managed to make her way to the basin in the corner. She sat down on the only piece of real furniture in the tent and peered into the mirror at her gaunt face. The angry red of the fever was gone. She looked pale. And sad.

  The guys had left their shaving stuff scattered around the basin and Lily had to shuffle through their razors and soaps until she found a toothbrush. After washing her face and brushing her teeth she felt better. She still looked like death warmed over, but at least she was refreshed. Lily ran her hand through her hair and noticed that she was growing some pretty impressive red roots. They looked almost pink in contrast with the bleached white tips, and Lily thought it looked sort of cool. She wondered in an offhand way if Juliet would like it, and suddenly missed her sister desperately. Juliet, it appeared, was the only person in this world who wasn’t trying to use her.

  Juliet?

  There you are!

  Are you okay?

  Not really, Lily. I’ve gotten myself into a bit of trouble with Lillian.

  What happened?

  She’s going to hang three people on New Year’s Day. I tried to save them. I’m just glad you’re alive.

  Lily felt Juliet leave her mind. An emptiness took her sister’s place. Knowing she couldn’t put this off any longer, Lily stood up and rifled through the different piles of boys’ clothes stacked around the tent until she found a dress. She slid it over the slip she was wearing and struggled to do up the laces herself. It was a gorgeous dress—beautifully tailored and embroidered with gold thread. She wondered who it had belonged to and where it came from. She wasn’t naive enough to think that Alaric’s tribe had bought it for her in a store, she just hoped no one had been killed for it. She dug in the clothes pile some more and found a cape that looked like it would fit a girl. She threw it over her shoulders and went out into the snow barefoot.

  She could feel where her mechanics were. Lily made her way through the camp, turning heads wherever she went. Everyone who looked at her immediately glanced down at the three stones lying on her bared breastbone and hurried to get out of her way.

  The camp was much larger than she’d thought. Lily had to walk a fair distance to make her way out of what she assumed was its center, where her tent was hitched, to find Rowan and the others, all the while heading toward the looming walls of Salem. As she felt her way through the grounds, Lily passed row after row of booths, tents, stalls, and stables. There were thousands, possibly even tens of thousands, of people camped here—and most of them were heavily armed.

  There was urgency in the air. Lily looked up at the walls beyond the camp, and saw flashes of light. The great wall surrounding Salem bristled with soldiers. A chill ran down her spine. Lily had zero battle experience, but even she knew that the two sides were facing off with each other. A war was brewing.

  Lily hadn’t seen much of the city while she was there, but she did know that it was modern, rich, and filled with resources. It also had a witch who could fuel her claimed with superhuman strength. As she passed through the camp, it seemed centuries behind. The carts and clothes were handmade. The children worked alongside the adults at the forges and the bakeries rather than attending school. Lily thought of the two sides of Rowan she’d seen—the Rowan who fit so perfectly in his sleek city apartment, and the Rowan who knew how to make do in a simple survival cabin in the woods. She remembered how happy he was when he was serving a huge meal to his friends at his stylish table, and how one jar of jam had been so important to him that he’d have rather starved than take it from another Outlander.

  This camp was filled with Rowan’s people. They were a people who had never had any resources apart from the kind they found inside themselves, and as noble as that was, Lily knew they didn’t stand a chance if it came down to a fight. The Citadel was too strong.

  Lily arrived at a huge armored cart surrounded by fierce-looking Outlander warriors. They had streaks of red and black paint on their faces, eagle feathers in their hair, and their dark wearhyde clothes were so similar they could have been uniforms. When she tried to pass, they stepped in front of her. They barely glanced at her or her stones. These were not the kind of men or women who were impressed by willstones and witches.

  “I need to speak to Alaric,” Lily said loudly.

  Half a second later Rowan appeared at the door. He looked her up and down with a funny expression. Her heart pinched at the sight of him, and then hardened. Why was it that every time she gave her heart to a guy, he almost instantly broke it?

  Lily! You’re awake.

  And I plan on staying that way. I’ve been asleep for too long.

  Lily could feel confusion swirling around inside of Rowan as he picked up on her anger.

  Is something wrong?

  Lily didn’t respond. Rowan’s confusion turned to frustration.

  I’m glad you’re awake, but don’t go through the camp alone again. Call to me first and I’ll come to you.

  Why?

  The Woven like to pick off loners and strays.

  Lily’s stride hitched and her skin crawled.

  But this camp is huge. They can still get inside?

  Outside the walls of the cities, no one is safe.

  “Let her pass,” Caleb ordered.

  Tristan joined Rowan and Caleb at the doorway, smiling brightly. Lily could sense Caleb’s and Tristan’s happiness at seeing her up and about, but she took no comfort in it.

  The Outlander warriors stepped out of Lily’s way. She took a few steps toward the carriage, but didn’t enter it.

  Lily? What’s the matter with you?

  Lily ignored Rowan. “Alaric!” she called. Confused thoughts from Caleb and Tristan ate away at the edges of her anger. It was hard to stay mad at them when their thoughts were laced with so much concern.

  Alaric limped out of the war carriage, his face inscrutable. “My Lady of Salem,” he said smoothly.

  “Lily,” she replied sharply. “My name is Lily. I’m not the ‘Lady�
�� of anything.”

  “What can I do for you, Lily?” Alaric said politely.

  “You can tell me what you want from me.” She glared at Rowan. “And he can tell me whether or not you’re lying in mindspeak.”

  “I want you to help my people,” Alaric said immediately.

  Lily looked at Rowan.

  He’s telling the truth.

  “And how do you want me to do that?” Lily asked Alaric.

  “By going to other worlds to get me the technology my people need to survive if necessary,” he responded. “But I’ll take whatever I can get from you. Clean water, antibiotics, whatever you’ve got.”

  Lily didn’t need Rowan to confirm what Alaric just said, but he did anyway.

  He’s telling the truth.

  And what about you, Rowan? Were you ever going to tell me the truth?

  “I’ve never lied to you,” Rowan yelled out loud.

  “But you didn’t tell me the whole truth, either. Did you?” Lily yelled back. “You weren’t looking for the shaman so I could find my home. You were looking for him so I could learn how to steal things for you.”

  “Don’t you dare tell me what my motives were,” Rowan said warningly.

  Like a slap across the face, Lily got a memory from Rowan.

  … the meeting with the Outlander elders, right before the camp got raided by Gideon’s men. The elder from Huron says there could be an answer to all the Outlanders’ problems on other worlds and that the girl could get those answers. The elder from Choctaw is so hopeful. He says that the fighting and dying and running from the Woven could end tomorrow if the girl can get the power source they need from the farworlds. The elder from Cherokee, the wiry woman with the mane of gray hair, cuts them all off. She says that first they have to find the shaman and then they have to find a way to get the girl on their side. She looks at me, and I know what she wants me to do. She wants me to seduce Lily. The elder wants me to tell Lily I love her so she’ll follow me anywhere. How I want to. But this girl is an innocent. I can’t. I won’t. I’m scared she’ll break my heart—again.

  Rowan’s mind skipped ahead.