by Jodi Meadows
“It’s all right.” Hristo fidgeted with the strap of his sling. “I know what you meant.”
“Regardless, we have to find your father.” Ilina started for the door. Hristo took her arm and drew her back.
“We will, but if he’s been arrested, it happened days ago. We won’t prevent it.” He picked up the scrap of Luminary Guard uniform fabric he’d dropped a moment before. “First, we have to figure out where we go next. Our plan was for your parents to take us to Mira’s. Who else can do that for us?”
I could think of only two people I trusted enough to ask for help. “Doctor Chilikoba or Krasimir. I don’t know where they live, though.”
“We can walk to Doctor Chilikoba’s house.” Ilina’s voice was heavy, but she looked stronger.
“I wish we had Chenda’s shadows,” Hristo said. “We need to be careful.”
“You think someone might be watching the house.” Ilina gazed toward the windows. “If there is, we’ve already been seen coming in.”
“We’ll have to be fast.” I looked toward the parlor doorway as Aaru came downstairs, two of Ilina’s packs slung over his shoulders. “We’ll see what my parents know.”
Hristo nodded. “Perhaps they will have information about your parents, Ilina. My father will likely be there.”
::And the treaty, of course.:: Aaru offered one of Ilina’s packs for inspection.
“And the treaty,” I confirmed. “And the dragons.” It was possible that Father knew the new route the dragons were being sent on—since I’d compromised the original one. But would the Luminary Council actually tell Father anything if they were worried about his daughter?
Hard to say.
We couldn’t count on it. That much I knew.
“Where does the doctor live?” Hristo asked.
“She’s close by.” Ilina closed her bag and nodded to Aaru, apparently satisfied with his selections. “Thank you for gathering my things.”
He smiled, and then we were out the door—without the cloak of shadow, but with a soft bubble of soundlessness to protect us.
ILINA WAS RIGHT: my doctor didn’t live far away.
We reached her home only ten minutes later, and since Aaru was the person least likely to be recognized here, he took a hastily scrawled note to the door and knocked. The rest of us lingered several houses down, watching the quiet street and waiting for Aaru to wave us on.
It didn’t take long.
My heart jumped at the sight of my doctor, even though she wore a heavy robe over her nightgown, and a blush-colored scarf covered her hair. Pressure marks lined the right side of her brown skin. But she still managed a smile when she saw me, and for the first time in a thousand years, I felt safe.
I’d never been to her home before, but the layout was similar to Ilina’s, with a large staircase that headed up to the second floor, shrouded in darkness with all the noorestones covered for the night. We turned into the parlor, where she shut the curtains fast and ordered the four of us to sit. “I’ll get my bag. Stay here.”
Rather than filling her parlor with draconic texts, she’d hung hundreds of drawings. People, mostly. There was a man laughing, a woman praying, and a small girl chasing butterflies.
Aaru left the seat he’d occupied, took three steps across the room, and let his fingers hover over another drawing.
It was me.
I moved next to Aaru. He didn’t look away from the drawing.
Careful pencil strokes had captured me as a round-faced child sitting primly on the edge of a large chair. The sketched window in the background suggested it was my house—the sun parlor where the doctor always saw me. My eyes were dark and haunted, trained on the scratches that covered my hands. My face, too, was crisscrossed with cuts.
I’d been seven, and someone had just tried to kidnap me.
Aaru studied the details, as though committing my child face to memory, then shifted his attention to the next drawing.
It was me again, but this one could have captured any number of moments shortly before my arrest. I was still in the sun parlor, but older here, wearing a sleeveless dress. The artist had caught me looking over my shoulder—as though I’d been gazing out the window and had just turned to see who’d come into the room.
I was pretty in this drawing, with half of my hair bound into a loose bun, while the rest tumbled down my back in tight curls. My body filled out the dress perfectly, and the muscles of my arms were defined but not hard. There was no scar. No evidence of untreated panic attacks. No echoes of torture.
Aaru stared at me. Her. The drawing. A girl who didn’t exist anymore.
Doctor Chilikoba came back into the room, a bag slung over her shoulder and a glass pitcher of water clutched in her free hand. “Oh.” She tilted her head, seeing what I was looking at. “I hope you don’t mind. I draw all my patients. . . .”
“I don’t mind.” I hurried to take the pitcher from her. “You’re a talented artist.”
“Thank you. That’s sweet of you to say.” She nodded toward a sideboard of beautifully carved heartwood. “Set the pitcher there. You can find glasses in the top drawer.”
While I followed her orders, she placed her bag on an end table and got to work.
“Do I even want to know what happened to you?” She went to Hristo first, removing his sling. “Seven gods, boy.”
“We’ve run into some trouble.” Hristo just watched while she unwound the bandage. The morning we’d departed Harta, the ship’s medic had checked the wound for infection and replaced the bandage. But no one told Doctor Chilikoba she wasn’t needed, so Hristo sat still and let her work.
She frowned over the cut, pressing different places to test Hristo’s reaction. “Can you move your fingers?”
He wiggled his thumb and forefinger. His middle finger twitched a moment later. Nothing happened with the other two.
“Hm.” She studied the healing cut a moment longer, then spread a sharp-smelling salve onto the side of his hand and applied a fresh bandage. “I’m satisfied that you’ll live, at least. Whoever treated this probably saved your life.”
Gerel would be proud to know that.
“But I’m worried about your last two fingers. Maybe the middle, too. Only time will tell.” She sighed and tightened the lid on the jar of salve. “I’ll get a new jar for you to take with you, and find a real sling.”
Gerel would not have liked to hear that; she’d worked hard on this sling.
“Thank you, Doctor.” Hristo lowered his eyes to his hand, but if he had any thoughts about using those last two fingers again, he didn’t share.
“Now, Mira, perhaps you’d like to tell me why you’re here?” The doctor spoke sternly, and I hated that we’d bothered her before dawn, but her eyes were kind when she glanced at me.
“We need to see my parents.” I finished pouring the water, and one at a time I handed glasses to the others. “We went to Ilina’s house first, but no one was there.”
“And why can’t you go on your own?”
I glanced at Ilina. “We all have forged papers.”
“Good Damyan. Do I want to know why?”
“It’s complicated.” I took a sip from my water and sat on the edge of one of the unclaimed chairs. “I don’t know how much we can safely tell you. Not because I don’t trust you. I do. But I don’t trust the Luminary Council anymore. Or the guards.”
“I knew something had happened.” She strode toward me. “When I went to your house for our appointment four decans ago, your mother said you were traveling. But she seemed strange. Worried. And she couldn’t say when you would return.”
“She seemed worried?” My voice felt tight. When Ilina and Hristo had come for me in Bopha, they’d said my mother had been working for my release, but I couldn’t imagine her worried for me.
Maybe . . . Maybe she was just worried about my face. Same as she’d been the day the man tried to kidnap me.
She was going to be so angry now.
“Of c
ourse she was worried. You’re her daughter.” Doctor Chilikoba crouched in front of me and touched my chin. Carefully, she tilted my left cheek toward the light. “What happened here?”
My throat closed up.
“It looks old, Mira, but I know it’s not.”
I dropped my gaze. “It was Councilor Elbena, just after the new year. But I can’t say how it healed so quickly.” The noorestone magic was something I couldn’t even explain to myself, let alone my doctor.
“It wasn’t treated properly. That’s why it scarred so badly.” She opened her bag wider, but whatever she wanted wasn’t in there. “I’ll find something for you to put on it. I can’t get rid of the scar for you, but we might be able to smooth it down a little.”
“Thank you,” I whispered. If anyone knew what the scar meant, she did. Then, when she handed me an amber bottle stuffed with my calming pills, I said again, “Thank you.” Just the glass under my fingers was a comfort.
Doctor Chilikoba squeezed my knee. “You’ll let me know if you need anything else, right?”
“There’s something. . . .” I kept my voice low.
“What’s that?” She didn’t move.
I wasn’t sure how to explain the emptiness I’d felt in Val fa Merce without also explaining the noorestone magic. But maybe she wouldn’t make me. Maybe she’d just understand that it had been different from the peaceful numb of my calming pills—that it had been something else entirely. Consuming.
“You don’t have to say it just right,” she murmured. “Tell me what you can.”
“I felt scraped hollow.” I pressed my palms against my knees to stop the trembling. “Empty. Like there was a fog smothering me.”
“Ah.” She nodded. “What helped it go away?”
“It’s not gone,” I whispered. “But it retreats when I’m doing something useful. I’ve been scrubbing a ship for three days.”
Doctor Chilikoba smiled. “All right. I’ll get something for that, too.”
One at a time, she looked at Ilina and then Aaru, and we did our best to explain what had happened, omitting the parts about dragons, noorestone magic, and the fact that we were all fugitives.
Which probably left her more confused than she’d been before, but she just continued with her work, not asking questions. Cuts and bruises got treated. Sore muscles were soothed. She took care of each of us as though we were all her most precious patients. That was one of the things I liked best about her; she made everyone special.
“All right.” She snapped her bag closed. “I’ll take you up there. Get something to eat. Rest. I’ll call for a ride.”
CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX
GETTING THROUGH THE GATES TO THE PROMINENCES was remarkably easy.
My friends and I ducked below the carriage windows. The on-duty guard saw only Doctor Chilikoba, and he waved her through without a second glance. She was a trusted figure, after all. A pillar of the community. No one questioned her goodness.
As we ascended Water Street up to the cliffs, the sky turned shades of violet and deep blue, growing brighter with every passing moment. The approaching sun threaded the wispy clouds pink and orange, and birdsong touched the crisp air. Far below, the waves crashed against the cliffs.
Home.
I could hardly believe I was back here, after everything, but the truth was undeniable. Fresh salt air tangled with the perfume of passionflowers and sea roses, so familiar it hurt. The delicate chime of the guardhouse bell tugged at my sense memory, urging me to feel safe at the knowledge of Luminary Guards patrolling the prominences.
Aaru sat across from me, his gaze darting from tall palm trees, to marble statues of Damyan and Darina, to the long drives that led to foliage-hidden houses; from here, we could only see hints of red brick, or flashes of glass windows. He took in everything, though his expression gave away no feelings even as he tapped on the carriage door.
::Beautiful here.::
I nodded.
::You grew up here.:: Again, his face was as silent as his voice.
And again, I nodded, trying not to wonder what I’d find if I could read his mind. Was he impressed? Scared? Disgusted? I’d thought I knew so much about Idrisi culture, but I’d misjudged too many times now to even guess what his feelings were.
Maybe I wasn’t looking hard enough?
By the time we turned into the drive to my house, the sun had crested the horizon. It was hard to see from this vantage point, with hedges and trees and ferns blocking the view, but in hummingbird-quick glimpses, I could see the golden orb sitting on the water, its long rays stretching between clouds and shining into the sky.
Then, my house blocked the view.
The drive circled a large fountain that was set flush into the ground. Lilies floated across the water, while sea roses lined the perimeter. In the spring, butterflies sometimes created huge, colorful clouds above the flowers.
But it wasn’t the fountain that drew Aaru’s gaze. As the carriage rolled to a stop and we began to file out, he asked, ::How many people live here?::
“Ten.”
His eyebrows rose. ::Didn’t realize your family was so big.::
“It’s not. Hristo and his father live in the servants’ quarters. Our chef and maids do, too; they’re a family. Otherwise, it’s just my parents, Zara, and me.” I slid out after him, lifting my eyes to the house as though I might be able to see it as he did.
It was large, with three wide stories, each boasting enormous glass windows that glittered in the morning sun. Seventeen of them on this face. The house had been built in a modern style inspired by the First Masters—those who’d designed the temple in the city below—meant to appear elegant and graceful, with decorative touches hand-carved into the pale stones.
For years, it had looked only like home. Now, after the places I’d been, it felt like approaching a palace.
“Do you need me with you?” Doctor Chilikoba asked. “Or was I just the ride?”
She had patients to see, other people who mattered to her. She’d already given me a cream for the scar and a bottle of pills for the emptiness, and we’d tucked everything away in one of Ilina’s bags for now.
“Your presence is always welcome,” I said. “But I think you should go. See your other patients. Come back in a few hours if you want to make sure we haven’t torn one another apart.”
She pressed her mouth into a line. “All right, as long as you know I’m worried.”
“Noted.” The urge to hug her seized me, but I hesitated. I’d been raised in the light of the Lovers, and people here regularly displayed their affection for one another, but that freedom had always paused around me. I was the embodiment of look, don’t touch.
But Doctor Chilikoba had always read me clearly, and quickly, she wrapped her arms around my shoulders. “I’ll check on you later.”
“Thank you.”
“Let’s go.” Ilina beckoned everyone forward, one of her packs slung over her shoulder; Hristo had the other.
After waving good-bye to Doctor Chilikoba, I hurried ahead of the others and hesitated only a heartbeat before I stepped inside my house.
Hoping for a moment of relief.
Hoping for the sense of homecoming.
Hoping for something like safety.
But I didn’t feel any of that as I moved through the front hall, elaborately decorated with all the possessions Mother liked to show off.
1.Two large vases that were three centuries old, if she was to be believed. They were obsidian, shaved so thin that a noorestone placed inside made the black glass glow like a dark lantern.
2.Two slender hardwood tables, which bore six bundles of fresh flowers and eleven tiny crystal songbirds.
3.Five paintings from a famous artist whose name Mother knew only because it impressed people.
The front hall opened into the main parlor, a large, airy space with an open design meant to feel light and welcoming. It took up much of the first floor, along with the kitchen, dining room, and a sma
ll library. Windows dominated the back wall, crystal-clear glass that faced the cliffs, admitting the morning sunlight as it gleamed across the water.
The windows were two stories tall in the center, where the second floor made a crescent moon of a balcony around the main section of the parlor. From here, I could just see the hallway Zara and I shared, and that her door was shut tight.
In all four corners of the parlor, two columns supported the ceiling, with bookcases pinned between them. None of those books were ever touched; as far as I knew, they were actually hollow, meant only to appear impressive. And finally, a pair of long, curved staircases descended from the balconies at the back, just far enough away from the windows to let the curtains be opened and closed.
::It’s so clean.:: Aaru’s arms were crossed over his stomach so that he tapped on his elbow. ::And big.::
“You should all sit.” I motioned to the sofas and chairs, waiting with soft cushions the colors of the moons.
Ilina and Hristo were already halfway to their favorite seats before I spoke, but Aaru had been waiting for an invitation. He perched on the edge of a chair near Hristo, like he didn’t believe he wasn’t about to get in trouble.
“I’ll find my mother.”
Before I could head upstairs, though, Zara’s door opened and my sister emerged stomping from her room, her schoolbag slung over one shoulder. But when she reached the balcony and caught sight of us in the parlor below, the bag dropped to the floor.
She opened her mouth. “Mother!”
At the scream, Aaru visibly cringed, while Ilina and Hristo exchanged pained glances. This was, unfortunately, Zara’s normal volume.
But it worked. Mother appeared on the opposite balcony, already wearing a sapphire wrap dress and a wrist full of gold bracelets that glowed against her warm brown skin. “Zara, please. You don’t—” She spotted everyone in the parlor, and her breath caught. “Mira?”
At once, she was hurrying to the nearest staircase, then taking the steps two at a time. “Zara, send for your father,” she said, not looking away from me. Of course, Zara didn’t move, and Mother didn’t order her again, so Hristo slipped out of the room to find a prominence page.
