Horatio kept glancing at her, but Elliot refused to speak. What could she possibly say to Kai on the subject that wouldn’t sound ludicrous?
“The Norths have had some recent difficulty with staff,” Horatio said at last, clearly trying to be careful. Elliot narrowly resisted tackling him to the ground to make him shut up. “They have lost several of their Posts in the past few years.”
“Really?” Andromeda asked, in a tone that bore no real curiosity.
Tatiana gave a haughty shrug. “I can’t imagine what is so attractive to them about the enclaves.”
“I imagine, Miss North, that it’s the opportunities for advancement they would not have here on your estate,” Felicia said. “It’s why I left my estate twenty years ago.”
But Tatiana was never one to take a hint. “You are a special case, Mrs. Innovation. Surely you can’t deny that the vast majority of these wandering Posts do not achieve the success that you and your husband enjoy.”
“That is true,” said Felicia. “But it does not change my mind.”
Tatiana’s eyes widened. “Really? But I have heard such terrible things. Too many Posts who leave the safety of their estates wind up as beggars, or worse. I for one would not be willing to take such a risk, were I in their shoes.”
“How fortunate for you, then,” said Andromeda in an icy tone, “that you were born a Luddite.”
“Yes,” said Tatiana, clueless. “I think so, too. I pity the Posts who have left this place.”
For the merest flicker of an instant, Kai looked at Elliot, as if daring her to speak. The ax fell again, and this time it reached her heart.
EIGHT YEARS AGO
Dear Kai,
Happy tenth birthday! Like always, I’m going to save you some of my cake. What are you doing this afternoon? My parents are throwing a party, as usual, but there is some time after lunch and before the party. I thought we could take the cake and go get Ro and have a picnic down near the creek. Did you finish Ro’s present? I know she’s going to like it.
Your friend,
Elliot
Dear Elliot,
Happy birthday to you too! I like cake and picnics. I’m supposed to help my da this afternoon, though, so take Ro down to the creek and I’ll meet you there.
Your friend,
Kai
Dear Kai,
I know this isn’t one of our usual gliders, but father bought me this stationery specially for all my thank-you cards. Most people bought me dresses. My mother laughed, knowing how rarely I wear them. My father did not find it so funny.
Onto the thank-you card business. Thank you so much for thinking of me on my birthday. Your thoughtfulness is much appreciated. I love the wind-up kitty. I had no idea you were making me a toy also! You are really sneaky.
Your friend,
Elliot
Dear Elliot,
I had to. After you told me the Baron wouldn’t let you have a real cat in the house, I knew exactly what you’d like.
I don’t have fancy stationery, but thank you so much for the books. Your thoughtfulness is much appreciated too. I can’t believe that these are mine to keep, that I don’t ever have to give them back. I promise to keep them hidden, like you said, though.
My favorite so far is the one about the stars. Like I always knew about Alpha Centauri, because it was a Pointer, but I never knew it was part of a constellation that made a centaur. I guess I should have, given the name. I went and found it last night, but I don’t think it looks much like a centaur.
Isn’t it strange that we know about stars that we can’t even see anymore? There are so many stars in the books that no one on the islands has ever seen. One day, maybe I can build a real glider and you and I can go see the rest of the stars, and the rest of the world, too.
Your friend,
Kai
Dear Kai,
That sounds like fun. I have always wanted to see Ursa Major, for example. I wonder if it really looks like a bear. From the outlines in the star book, I think not, since Ursa apparently has a long tail, and bears are supposed to have short tails, I think. I have only ever seen bears in books, though, so how do you know?
Save room for me on that glider, and some day we’ll go see the stars.
Your friend,
Elliot
Eleven
AS THE WEEKS PASSED and the Fleet settled into the Boatwright estate and their shipbuilding project, Elliot was relieved that there were few repeats of those first days. Tatiana seemed to have little desire to socialize with the Posts, though it left her pretty much alone, as from all reports the Groves were taking every opportunity to spend time with the Fleet.
Elliot busied herself with the harvest. It was sparse this year, thanks to her father’s eleventh-hour meddling with her wheat fields, but with the influx of money from renting out the Boatwright estate, they’d make it through another winter, and even have a bit of a surplus. In her spare time, she tried to devise a way to repeat her experiment in a safer way. Perhaps next year she’d bury a plot of enhanced wheat in the center of a conventional field, surrounding it with stalks that wouldn’t raise her father’s suspicions at a glance. Maybe she’d mix her grain in with the normal seeds in order to hide it from everyone.
Maybe she’d give up on the idea altogether and be the good little Luddite she was raised to be. After all, for all she’d tried to justify her actions, she knew they were illegal. She shouldn’t have experimented on the wheat. This was where the evil began. What was the harm, the Lost used to say, in creating a wheat strain with a shorter growing time, one that would produce more grain per stalk? From there, things became slippery. What was the harm in devising a plant with such a complete array of nutrients that it would render growing anything else for food pointless? What about a plant that could subtly poison the ground so as to make it only capable of providing sustenance for that kind of plant? What about extrapolating all of that beyond the world of plants—to animals? To people?
Her ancestors twirled in their graves.
And as she wrestled with whether she would try it again, she avoided the barn and the lab she’d set up in Kai’s old room. It was too hard to go in there now. The instinct she had to always look first at the knothole in the door was a constant reminder of his casual cruelty. His letters themselves were something worse. The words he’d spoken to her that first night, the ones he’d shared with Olivia in the star cavern, and the ones he’d said in front of everyone at the barn had left a tender place inside of her, a rotten spot that would burst if pressed. She’d prefer not to see him, and not to spend time in the room that had once meant so much to them both.
Elliot had kept herself so busy that she’d almost forgotten Felicia Innovation’s offer to look at her grandfather and give her expert opinion. So when she saw the Post woman walking up to the house a few weeks after the Fleet’s arrival, she was taken aback.
She met Felicia at the door. “Have you come to see my sister?” Elliot asked. “I’m afraid she’s gone to the Groves’ for dinner today.” It was the first invitation she’d had from Olivia in quite some time.
“That’s all right,” the older woman said. “Your sister has invited me here to examine Chancellor Boatwright. Didn’t she tell you? Apparently she wrote the baron and he consented.”
Elliot shook her head. Why her grandfather needed the consent of Baron North to seek medical treatment was beyond her. “Better not mention that to the Boatwright,” she said. “He’s a little short-tempered when it comes to my father.”
“That is often the case with fathers and sons-in-law, I think,” said Felicia. “I’ll follow your lead.”
Elliot Boatwright was sleeping when they arrived in his chambers upstairs. He spent most of his time sleeping now, and when Elliot reported this fact to Felicia, the Post woman’s mouth drew into a thin line.
“What does it mean?” Elliot asked.
“It means he’s old, Elliot.” But Elliot knew that wasn’t all.
O
nce the Boatwright was awakened and had the chance to freshen up, Elliot introduced him to Felicia Innovation.
“It’s quite an honor to meet you, sir. You once made excellent ships. Several of the boats my husband uses in his Fleet were originally built in your shipyard. You are spoken of everywhere as a great and gracious man.”
The Boatwright nodded his thanks and grunted a few syllables in response. He shifted half toward Elliot, and the good side of his face was a mask of frustration. He made a quick gesture, but before Elliot had the chance to react, Felicia held up her hands.
“I know the Reduced signs, sir. I am a Post, remember? And though I’ll understand if you don’t wish to make them in front of me, I want you to understand that I see no shame in them, just as there is no shame in being carried in a litter if you cannot walk on your own feet.”
The Boatwright’s expression softened, and he directed his next gestures at Felicia. You. Pain. Fix.
“Yes, I am a healer.”
The Boatwright began to make another sign, then sighed and shot a look at Elliot.
Felicia turned to her. “Perhaps, dear, you’d like to wait in the hall? I think it would be easier for your grandfather to speak to me without you present.”
Elliot did as she was told. When Felicia emerged, several minutes later, Elliot jumped out of her seat and turned to her in anticipation. “Well?”
She smiled. “That man is very proud of you.”
Elliot shook her head. “You can’t get that from Reduced signs.”
“You’re right about that.” The woman’s salt-and-pepper curls were escaping from their braid and frizzing in a halo around her head. Her freckled face bore an expression of almost motherly concern. Elliot recoiled by instinct, and Felicia definitely noticed. She withdrew the arm she’d already been reaching in the girl’s direction. “But he says you have his daughter’s heart. I extrapolated.”
“You were here to see about his health.” Elliot didn’t need this woman’s pity.
“It’s very bad, Elliot, but this is no surprise to you. He sleeps, I think, because he has strokes all day long, every day. Thousands of tiny strokes that snap the neurons in his head. He’s dying.”
Elliot nodded miserably.
“There are medicines we can give him that will ease his pain, stop the palsy, and maybe even slow the progression of his descent, but you cannot fix it. Not with the means we have at our disposal.”
The rest was clear. The protocols were killing her grandfather, just as they were strangling the life out of this estate. No wonder the Lost had been so tempted! No wonder Elliot had been.
“Come. Don’t be sad. Your grandfather is an old man, and he has lived a great life. If you are alone this evening, then you should come back to the Boatwright house with me.”
“No, thank you,” said Elliot, though she kept her tone mild. She had no desire to go to the Boatwright house. Not with Kai there. Yet she knew Felicia was only trying to be kind. The Boatwright’s illness was not her fault, and as Felicia had said, Elliot’s grandfather had lived a long life, unlike Felicia’s own daughter.
“Then how about a tour?” Felicia asked. “Your sister showed me the house and the star cavern. Why don’t you show me the fields? We can take the Innovation horses. I’ve missed riding, since we brought no horses of our own.”
“I’m a poor rider.”
“We’ll go slow.” Felicia was determined, and Elliot had run out of excuses.
Twelve
ELLIOT SWAYED UNEASILY IN the saddle. This was not like Tatiana’s pony, on which she’d learned to ride, nor like the chestnut mare her father had bought her sister after their mother had passed. Mounting the Innovation horse, even though it was a mare, felt more like climbing on the back of an elephant.
She understood now why the Innovation horses had made their masters such an enormous fortune. The Innovations had a monopoly on them; they only sold geldings and mares, and thus far, the attempts to breed the mares with normal horses had not yielded out-of-the-ordinary results.
Elliot’s mare was named Pyrois, while Felicia rode on the back of the other mare, Aeos. “The horses of the sun,” she said as they rode out past the fence that encircled the barn.
“Indeed,” Felicia replied. “Unless your father sees fit to rename them.”
Elliot laughed. “My father is not the most inventive man, even when it comes to names. Tatiana was the name of my mother’s mother, and Elliot my mother’s father.”
“Did you ever find it strange,” said Felicia, “that they gave you the name of a son?”
“My mother knew she’d never have one,” Elliot said. She led them into a fallow field to cut across to the woods. “There were . . . complications during my birth.” But they were edging perilously close to ground Elliot feared to tread. She didn’t want to talk to this woman, this healer, about how Elliot’s mother had survived the day of Elliot’s birth when Kai’s and Ro’s mothers had not.
“Did you name these horses?” she asked quickly. “I have long been a fan of Greek mythology.”
“I did. I am fond of it as well.” Felicia coaxed Aeos into a trot, then leaped over the split rail that bordered the field. Elliot gritted her teeth and followed, amazed that such a tall horse even needed to jump the barrier.
“I chose Andromeda’s name, too,” she added when Elliot caught up. “Do you think it suits her?”
“No,” Elliot admitted. “The mythological Andromeda was a damsel in distress. Chained to a rock, forced to wait for Perseus to save her. But Andromeda Phoenix seems very little like that.”
Felicia gave her a look as unreadable as any of Andromeda’s. “I think she’d like to hear that from you.”
Elliot was quite sure not. She’d gathered that Andromeda, perhaps alone among the Cloud Fleet, knew exactly what she had once been to Kai. “Perhaps she can say it’s for the sky Andromeda, the galaxy you can see with the naked eye. I have read about it in the books, though I know you can’t see it here. It’s supposed to be very beautiful. Since Andromeda Phoenix is an explorer, it’s a good name for her.”
“You should definitely tell her that. We tried a few others, but nothing stuck, and this is closest to her old name, Ann. She’s still adjusting to it, and to life as a free Post.”
“I thought she ran away from her estate as a child,” Elliot said.
“She did.” Felicia looked out over the fields. “Not all Posts who run away from their estates wind up free.”
Elliot led the way to a path that cut through the woods, but her mind whirled with questions. Where had Andromeda gone, if it was not to an enclave to be free? How had she found her way into the Fleet? How long had Kai been a member of the Fleet and how had he met the Innovations? But she knew those questions would just raise other ones in Felicia’s mind, so she stuck to something simpler.
“Why do the free Posts change their names?”
“Why should we keep the names that mark us as secondary citizens?” Felicia asked. “I was born on a Luddite estate and given the name Lee. I was told who and what I was allowed to become. We give the Reduced one-syllable names because they can’t handle anything more. But I am not Reduced. When I left that life, I left those limitations as well. I chose my own name.” Felicia smiled at her. “If you were a Post, you would want that choice, too.”
Elliot pretended to rearrange her grip on the reins, letting loose strands of hair fall into her face to cover her thoughts.
They broke through the other side of the woods, scattering fallen leaves in their wake. They’d reached the lower fields now, and the baron’s racetrack. The shoddy state of many of the fences delineating the fields, as well as the unkempt gardens and crumbling, vacant Post cottages, seemed even more noticeable beside the neat lines of the racetrack and the shiny pavilion. Elliot could only imagine what Felicia thought.
“When your father is gone, will Tatiana be the new Baroness North?”
“No. My cousin will inherit. His father was my fa
ther’s older brother. By some arguments, the land should be his now, since he’s of age, but he left when he was very young.”
Actually, he had been banished, but there was no need to air all the family’s dirty laundry. Elliot spent a few minutes pointing out the sights and the boundary of the estate, then started up the road that led to the Boatwright estate and the sea. The path before them grew rocky, and Elliot slowed their pace as the horse whinnied and picked its way up the steep slope.
Pyrois’s hooves slipped sideways on a patch of scree, and Elliot bit back a shriek as the horse raced to right herself. The mare took off, clambering up the hillside while Elliot clung to her neck for dear life. When they reached level ground, the horse stopped, snorting and tossing her head.
Felicia cantered up and reached out to soothe the animal. “There, there, Pyrois.” She stroked Pyrois’s ears and neck, and the horse leaned into the woman’s touch, calming instantly and making Elliot even more embarrassed.
Elliot struggled to catch her breath. “I told you I wasn’t good at riding.”
“So, Tatiana is the horsewoman in the family,” Felicia said with a smile clearly meant to put Elliot at ease.
Elliot forced a laugh. “Yes. She takes after my father. I take after my mother—I like plants more.”
“With your name, I wonder you aren’t a Boatwright like your grandfather.”
“I might have been had my grandfather been able to keep the yard open long enough for me to learn. He became ill when I was still very young. My mechanical skills are—rudimentary at best.”
They’d been taught to her by a boy who now delighted in detailing exactly how poor they were.
“Maybe we should return you to the shipyard now,” Elliot said. “I’d love to see your work. After all, I’ve shown you mine.”
Except she hadn’t. Not really. Elliot wondered what the Post would think of her wheat—her desperate rebellion, her miniature heresy. Would she be appalled? Would she be proud?
For Darkness Shows the Stars Page 8
