Amid Wind and Stone

by Nicole Luiken

  “Vegetables are plants. How do they grow in the dark?” the boy asked.

  “Uh…” Leah searched Dorotea’s memories again. “There are special lights,” she said, after a hesitation. Full-spectrum lights was the term Dorotea used, but Leah didn’t know what that meant.

  “Oh, my gran told me about them.” He spat in the dirt. “She says the Elect are stupid to waste time and energy growing things in the dark.” His chest puffed out. “It’s us Unskilled that fill everyone’s bellies with our grain and clothe them with our cotton.”

  “I don’t doubt it,” Leah said, amused. “Where’s the staircase to Above?”

  “Staircase one, two, three, or five?” he asked. “Four crumbled in the quake and hasn’t been repaired yet.”

  She blinked at so many choices. “I don’t know. Where do they all lead?”

  Now it was his turn to frown at her, perplexed. “To this field’s skylights, of course.”

  “Do any of them go to the dead city?”

  The boy stared at her as if she were crazy. “Of course not.”

  Leah abandoned that line of questioning. “Which staircase is nearest?”

  “Five east.” He pointed to a large, dimly lit square in the roof of the cavern, one of four sources of light for this field.

  A scraping sound attracted her attention to one corner, which was lighter than the rest. She realized that the skylight wasn’t an artificial light but rather a large glass window set into the ceiling, fifty feet up a stone chimney. Drifting sand had covered most of it. As she watched, men with shovels and brooms walked on top of the glass and cleared off the sand.

  Yellow-gold rays of sunlight shone down and bounced off a series of mirrors lining the chimney. The light spread out so that almost the whole field received sunlight from the window. Leah guessed that the shadowed sections would get their share as the sun Above rose and set in the sky.

  It was very clever.

  Dorotea had been certain that going Above was tantamount to a death sentence, but it appeared to be survivable for short periods. Good. However, it would be prudent to avoid the skylight while the workers were still there in case they tried to stop her.

  “How long does it take them to clear the sand?” she asked.

  The little boy rolled his eyes. “Depends on how long the sandstorm lasted and how much sand there is to shovel, don’t it? Takes about half a morning to clear a regular storm.”

  That was a lot of sand. “How long do regular storms last?”

  “Dunno. A couple of hours probably. One time, we had a monster storm that lasted for a week!” he said with relish. “Gran says we nearly lost one of the skylights that time.”

  And how often did they have monster storms? Leah wondered queasily. She spied what looked like a stairwell set into the cavern wall and headed that way.

  Before she reached it, the boy tugged at her sleeve. “I have to go back, or Gran will be mad. Everyone’s over there. Bye!” He lifted a hand in farewell, then scampered back the way they’d come.

  Leah moved her gaze away from the cavern wall and discovered with a jolt that she was on the fringes of a small crowd. On a nearby small hill stood a party of four men and two women. Both women and two of the men wore green-tinted sunglasses and robes identifying them as Elect. The other two men had the tattoos of Unskilled servants.

  Leah’s stomach tightened. Did they have anything to do with her? She ducked behind a large, sunburned man, hoping to hide her stupid turquoise dress.

  A short Elect with a triangular beard clapped his hands. “Gather round!”

  Cloaked in hostile silence, the Unskilled obediently came closer. Reluctantly, Leah followed, trying to remain hidden in the back. The stairwell was tantalizingly close, but to get there, she’d have to pass directly in front of the Elect. Better to wait than risk attracting their notice. Dorotea’s memories stirred, identifying the man as Elect Harmon. He’d confronted Dorotea in the Cathedral—he would know her face.

  “Attention! As I’m sure you’ve all noticed, we’ve been experiencing blackouts every twelve hours.”

  Dorotea only had memories of two blackouts, one at noon when her sister was injured, and one that midnight. A third one must have occurred while Dorotea slept in the hidden cavern.

  “What you may not know,” Elect Harmon continued, “is that rebels have damaged a power station Above. I am leading a party of Elect to fix the problem, but we need twelve strong Unskilled volunteers to act as our guards while repairs are made. Once the problem is fixed, six will escort all but one of the Elect back Below. After that, one Elect and six Unskilled will trade off with those left at the power station every five days until the saboteurs are caught. Please raise your hand if you wish to volunteer.” The Elect paused expectantly.

  Unsurprisingly, no one moved. This was going to take too long.

  “Come now,” the Elect said, as if coaxing a reluctant child to eat mashed turnips. “We all suffer when the electricity fails. We must all pull together to survive.”

  Behind Elect Harmon, his Unskilled servant winced.

  A low mutter swelled in the crowd. Leah took advantage of their distraction to drop onto her hands and knees. The waist-high crops should give her enough concealment to reach the shadows by the cavern wall. But first, she scooped up some dust and trickled it over her turquoise dress in an effort to dull the color.

  “You mean you want us to die for you!” a woman shouted.

  “While the job does require some risk, it shouldn’t prove fatal,” the Elect said, sounding offended. “Burt’s worked for me for years, and he’s still alive!” He gestured toward his wiry Unskilled servant.

  Burt dipped his head in acknowledgement.

  “Burt has it soft. He don’t work Above! We do!” a tall man shouted.

  “If it’s not dangerous, then what do you need us for?” another demanded.

  “As I said, the venture does require some risk,” Elect Harmon said testily. “The saboteurs are likely poorly armed and will probably back off from a show of force, but there is a small chance, say 10 percent, of a violent confrontation. My people are too valuable to lose—”

  An angry rumble overwhelmed his next words. The Elect was a tactless idiot, Leah decided while crawling through the grain. She couldn’t see the stairwell anymore, but the cavern wall ought to be in this direction.

  “Quiet!” a woman spoke up. “We agree that the power station must be repaired. The Elect have the knowledge, but you need our strong backs to protect you, correct?”

  Leah could see Elect Harmon through a gap in the grain. He pulled at his beard but nodded. “In essence, yes.”

  “Then what needs to be settled is the price of our cooperation,” she continued.

  “Price?” The Elect frowned. “The repair will benefit all. With the power station out, we’ve had to cut down lighting in your cavern to 60 percent the norm and restrict stove use to certain hours.”

  “Yes, we noticed,” the woman said in a hard voice. “Nevertheless, we require more than just a return to the status quo. What good will that do those who lose their lives defending your engineers from the scavengers?”

  The scavengers? Leah paused. This was information she might need.

  “They’ll have the satisfaction of knowing they helped their fellows,” Elect Harmon said.

  “Helping mankind is a wonderful thing but rather intangible,” the woman said.

  The Elect winged up his eyebrows, as if impressed by her vocabulary.

  “We prefer to help ourselves and our kin. Burt, for instance, receives a soft bed and better food in return for being your servant.” She acknowledged Burt with a small nod. “When he can, he sends extra to his sisters and his nieces and nephews. Unlike Adelbert.” She shot a hard glare at the other Unskilled servant.

  Elect Harmon folded his arms. “It sounds to me as if you have a price in mind. Name it, and be done.”

  Leah started crawling again, faster. Her palms and knees started
to hurt.

  “Every volunteer receives extra rations,” the woman leader said. “Calcium supplements plus a serving of vegetables or fruits every day for three months. For every person who falls or is crippled in your service: an apprenticeship for his or her children so that they may learn a Skill.”

  Another murmur passed through the crowd, but this time Leah heard eagerness and approval in the whispers.

  A lump formed in her throat. The castle folk in her father Duke Ruben’s care had seldom eaten meat like the nobles did, but vegetables and berries had always been plentiful.

  “Outrageous,” Elect Harmon blustered. “Some of you have six children. Apprenticeships can’t be found for all of them. One, and the child must be young enough not to have received his tattoo. And if the parent is merely wounded, then regular rations until he or she is healed should suffice.”

  The woman argued for more, but to Leah’s ear, she was pleased with what the Elect had already conceded. She was definitely the better negotiator.

  Leah was quite close to the hill now. She moved carefully, afraid that any glance to the side on the part of the Elect would reveal her position.

  One of the other Elects, a long-jawed woman with blond braids, spoke up. “This is ridiculous! If they won’t do their duty, we’ll make them help us.” She touched the gun in her holster.

  Leah gaped. The Elect had guns like the policemen on Holly’s world? Somehow, she’d expected swords or crossbows, not guns. This world was a strange mix of primitive and technological; she couldn’t make sense of it.

  Burt bristled. Elect Harmon put his hand on the armed woman’s shoulder. “Leave this to me, Trudi, before you start a riot.”

  “Just let me—”

  “Waste your ammunition?” he interrupted. “I think not. Stand down. I’m in charge of this party, not you.” He glared at Trudi until she gave a stiff nod and subsided.

  From the puzzled reaction of the crowd, they didn’t recognize the gun as a weapon. Except maybe the woman leader. She had gone very still, though when she spoke, her voice was steady.

  By the time Leah neared the cavern wall, the negotiations had ended. Elect Harmon called again for volunteers and this time had three times the needed number to pick and choose from.

  While he was occupied, she stood up. Spying the staircase twenty feet on her left, she headed straight for it. Urgency beat in her blood. She’d wasted too much time already.

  She’d only covered half the distance when Burt suddenly raised his voice. “Hey, that’s her! The Artisan girl in the turquoise robes.”

  “Stop her!” Elect Harmon yelled.

  Ashes. Leah broke into a run. She crashed through the waist-high grain. A rock in her path made her stumble.

  “Two months’ vegetables to the person who catches her!” Elect Harmon bellowed.

  Curse him. Now they’d all be after her.

  Leah picked up her skirts and ran harder. Her breath sawed in and out of her lungs. She reached the bottom of Stair Five—and barreled into a burly man with a large nose and peeling skin. He dropped his shovel and caught her. “Whoa, there, careful.”

  Before she could squirm free, a woman yelled, “Hold her, Titus! The Elect is offering an award!”

  She kicked the burly man’s shin, but he just grunted and then twisted her arm behind her back. He was much stronger than her, his sinews like iron cables.

  Desperately, Leah stamped her foot three times, paused, then repeated her actions. She needed Jasper! For the first time, she regretted the destruction of the bracelet and collar. With them she could have contacted the gargoyle.

  Titus tightened his hold on her. “What’d you do to stir up the Elect?” He sounded more curious than angry.

  “Please, let me go,” Leah begged. “I’m trying to stop the earthquakes. The Elect have angered the Goddess.”

  He frowned at her, then addressed Burt, who’d just caught up to them. “That true?”

  Burt shook his head and spoke between gasps. “She—took—a gargoyle.”

  Titus goggled at her. “But she’s an Artisan, not a Stone Heart.”

  Burt sent her a sour glance. “Apparently, her father was a Stone Heart. He died in the rebellion. She used his collar and bracelets.”

  Leah saw her chance. “I don’t have any bracelets. Look.” She shoved up her sleeves. “I haven’t done anything wrong. Let me go.”

  Burt shook his head. “I don’t know what’s going on, but Elect Harmon wants her. And your kids need the reward, Titus.”

  Titus nodded. The two men held her elbows and marched her between them back to Elect Harmon.

  “She’s not wearing any bracelets,” Burt told his master.

  Elect Harmon scowled at Leah. “Where are they? Who did you give them to?”

  “They’re broken. Destroyed. The collar, too.” Leah met his green-tinted gaze with a lifted chin.

  His nostrils flared. “What? You let the gargoyle escape?” His fingers dug into her arm, bruising.

  Defiantly, Leah tossed back her hair. “He didn’t escape. I freed him.” She felt a flare of satisfaction when the arrogant Elect’s face paled. “Slavery is wrong,” she continued passionately. “In all its forms.” She glanced pointedly at the Unskilled laborers.

  He bared his teeth at her. “Do you know what you’ve done?”

  “Yes.”

  “Foolish girl. I might have shown leniency because of your age, but now you’ll be banished Above.”

  “Go right ahead,” Leah said defiantly. Above was exactly where she wanted to go.

  A little voice inside her pointed out that Dorotea would be devastated—forever separated from her family—but she pushed it down. Dorotea had set herself on this course long before Leah interfered.

  “She was heading for the staircase,” Burt said quietly.

  Elect Harmon grabbed her chin. “Why were you going there? Do you know anything about the blackout? Are you a rebel like your father?”

  Leah’s eyes widened. What was he talking about?

  When she didn’t deny it, the Elect’s eyes became hard and merciless. “You’ll come along as my prisoner. You’ll feel more loquacious after a few hours out in the sun. When the sandstorms come, you’ll beg to betray all your rebel friends.” Elect Harmon inclined his head at Burt. “Bring her.” He turned his back.

  Desperately, Leah stamped her foot three more times—

  Stone hands grabbed her ankles and pulled her down.

  Chapter Fourteen

  War is Declared—

  In Which Audrey Seeks Proof of One Thing But Discovers the Truth of Another

  Air World

  Audrey abandoned her cold scrambled eggs and dashed for the front door as soon as she heard her father arrive. Her mother followed more slowly.

  The Admiral stamped his boots in the vestibule. His white dress uniform was rumpled. He was scowling, unshaven, and his eyes were red-rimmed with fatigue. But unlike his nights spent tomcatting or at his club, today he smelled of fresh air, not whiskey or perfume.

  “What happened?” Audrey demanded.

  “The Sipar ship cut its moorings and made a run for it. We caught it at dawn and forced it down into the marsh, but not before it sent off three messenger drones.” He shook his head. “Sipar will know about the ambassador’s death in three days. The queen has made an official declaration of war. The Fleet will sail in under a week.”

  Audrey sagged against the wall. She’d been expecting the news to be bad, but now she felt numb. Everything was happening so quickly…

  “Have you eaten?” Lady Bethany asked. “Marsha, fetch the Admiral some strong, hot tea.”

  Her father must have been tired because he let his wife lead him to the sunny breakfast room without further demur. Audrey watched him shovel down a plateful of food, her mind whirling.

  Finally, the Admiral laid down his fork. “Audrey, come to my study. I need you to tell me everything you know about The Phantom, starting when you encountered him o
n the Artemis.”

  Audrey licked her lips. “Of course, Father.”

  Lady Bethany stood as well.

  “No. Stay here,” he told his wife bluntly.

  “It’s all right,” Audrey said quickly, before her mother’s frown could deteriorate into a full-blown shouting match. “I don’t mind.”

  Lady Bethany’s lips pressed together, but she didn’t insist. Audrey let out the breath she’d been holding and followed her father into his study.

  He shut the door and sat down across the slate-topped desk from her. His black brows knit into a single intent line. “Audrey, we are at war. It’s imperative that you tell me the truth—all of it. Don’t omit a single detail. We must find out how much the Siparese know, how deep the damage is. Do you understand?” His voice had a gravity to it.

  “Of course, Father.” Hidden on her lap, she clenched her hands, but she recounted her meetings with The Phantom in a steady voice. Her cheeks burned when she mentioned the kisses, but to her relief, her father listened quietly instead of exploding with anger. She’d feared seeing the same condemnation in his eyes that he’d directed at Grady.

  She continued her tale, faltering again when she came to the part about her reflection speaking to her.

  Her father cursed and stood, his chair scraping against the wooden floor as he pushed it back.

  “I know it sounds crazy—”

  “No.” He chopped a hand through the air. “I’ve had my own brush with the True World.”

  What? A dozen questions bubbled in her mind, but she kept them from her lips, knowing he wouldn’t answer.

  “Otherselves are all liars and cheats who cannot be trusted.” His face reddened as his temper rose. “Your otherself convinced you to act against your own instincts, to trust this stranger. That’s their style. If she contacts you again, come to me.”