by L. K. Rigel
Harriet was the closest thing to someone she felt completely safe with, and they’d only met today!
She had to get out, walk around, do some exploring. It always felt good to get away from everybody and go see what was out there. Out there anywhere. Maybe she could find the top of the citadel now and look for the end of the ocean.
She went back into her room and put on her clothes and stuffed the bed to make it look like she was sleeping under the covers. Not very convincing, but in the dark it might work. She couldn’t go out the front door. There were guards posted. But with the night vision in the shades, that wasn’t a problem.
She went back to the deck and followed it until she found an unoccupied room and went through to the corridor she’d been in with Counselor earlier.
Someone was whispering around the corner, too low to make out the words. She flattened herself against the wall then realized it was too dark for anyone to see her. The lift door slid open, and she heard Counselor say, “Let’s go, Edmund.”
The lift door closed, and the steam engine went to work. The pump made noise for a long time; they must have gone to the bottom of the citadel. Mal didn’t want to call the lift back and let them know someone was following them. She’d hunted jackrabbits long enough. You don’t signal your prey that you’re coming.
She took the other lift as far down as it would go and got out at a public foyer. Her lift must have had a better pump, because she was already halfway across the foyer when the other lift opened. She ducked behind a column and froze.
Counselor and Edmund were with Steve and Dix, the ghost. They must be going to the project Dix had mentioned – and walking in the dark without even a candle, they were definitely trying to not be seen.
Mal followed them into a hall, down some stairs, and into a kitchen, then through a passage at the kitchen’s far wall. Mal snatched some fat red berries and honey pastries from a kitchen work table. She had forgotten just how hungry she was until she saw the food. The honey pastry was so good she thought she’d gone to Elysium. This was what the gods must eat.
She heard a sound outside the kitchen –in the direction she’d come from. Someone was in the hallway. She sprinted through the door where Counselor and the others had gone. She was in a larder, and they’d gone through yet another passageway.
“We’re going to find it tonight.” Steve’s voice trailed in from the next room.
“I can feel it,” Dix said. “We’re so close.”
They spoke freely now. She knew they couldn’t see her, but she instinctively kept herself hidden. Edmund did something with the wine bottles in the far rack, and she slid the shades to focus on which bottles he moved. The rack rolled away and revealed a door. Beyond the doorway, Edmund lit a torch and the glow showed his face as the rack slowly returned to its position.
The rack moved silently, so she wasn’t worried about being betrayed by noise. But they could be standing just on the other side of the door, and if she followed them straightaway they’d see her. She ate another pastry and waited. Whoever or whatever had been outside the kitchen must have moved on. It was dead quiet in here now.
She waited until she couldn’t stand it anymore. She tipped the wine bottles as Edmund had done, stepped through the door and found the wall lever to close it.
She was alone in a cave about twenty by thirty feet, a tunnel on the other side. Even with the slider, because of the curve of the tunnel she couldn’t see anybody. She lifted her shades and waited for her eyes to adjust. There was light coming from the other end, and she heard a banging echo.
She put her shades back down and went on.
They were digging on one side of the tunnel. She kept away from the walls. They should be happy they couldn’t see what she saw – worms and all kinds of weird creepy-crawlies. About twenty feet before she reached them, a cold breeze touched the back of her neck and a voice, womanly and childlike at the same time, said in her ear: Look!
This time, she was certain she’d heard it. It was the same voice she’d heard under the scrub brush, the one that told her to look at the stone god.
Her heart pounding, she looked to her left. And she gasped.
“What was that?” Edmund started toward her, followed by Counselor. Dix and Steve picked up torches and weren’t far behind.
But it didn’t matter. Not with what she saw through the wall.
Edmund grabbed her, his eyes wild. “How did you get in here? How did you find us?” He was angry, but he was more worried.
“You’re digging in the wrong place,” she said.
“You don’t know what you’re talking about,” Edmund said. “With all respect.”
But it didn’t feel like respect. He was furious with her. She thought her heart would stop beating, it hurt so much.
“Let me explain.”
“Please do, Mallory,” Counselor said. “Edmund, let her speak.”
Edmund let go. He ran his hand through his hair, pushing it off his face, and glanced behind her up the tunnel. She realized he wasn’t angry with her – he was worried.
“You should dig here.” Mal pointed at the wall. She wasn’t about to touch it. “There’s someone in there. A body, I mean. A skeleton.”
They stared at her like she was crazy.
“What are you talking about?” Counselor said.
“I can see it with these.” She took the shades off and handed them to Edmund. “A room.” Despite the torchlight, she was blind while her eyes adjusted again. And then she could see. Her heart pounded harder than ever, and she had to make herself breathe.
Without the shades. She could still see through to a room just beyond the tunnel wall.
“They’re too small.” Edmund gave the shades to Counselor. “I’ll ruin them. But how did you get in here?”
Mal was too stunned to answer, but a voice from some distance up the tunnel said, “The same way I did.” Prince Garrick walked into the torchlight. He wore a pair of shades just like Mal’s. So that’s one who had made the noise outside the kitchen.
“You followed me.”
“Yes, I did,” he said cheerfully. “You remember what I said at the reception.” He didn’t look at the tunnel wall.
If at first you don’t succeed.
“So what’s going on?” He’d changed out of his formal clothes, but a cutout still showed the raptor talon curled over his collarbone.
“We’re exploring the tunnels.” Counselor handed the shades back to Mal.
“Ah, the famous tunnels of mad Queen Char. Or I should say infamous.” His periwinkle blue eyes were gorgeous in the torchlight. His eyelashes were the same strawberry blond as his hair. He looked clever and full of fun. “Finding anything?”
Mal was interrupted before she could speak.
“Sadly, no.” Counselor took Steve’s torch and stepped in front of Mal toward the prince. “And the air is unhealthy. We should get Mallory out of here.”
The Allels were tense. Mal could see they didn’t want her to talk about the room in front of Prince Garrick.
“I’m so glad you found us, Prince Garrick. You wanted to talk to me earlier, and I was busy with the reception. I hope you didn’t think I was rude.” She linked her free arm in his and led back up the tunnel, as if all she’d ever wanted was to spend time with Prince Garrick.
Edmund and the others looked disgusted. Steve uttered something in the tone of a curse that sounded like beesboom.
“Counselor knows what she’s doing,” Edmund said. “Let’s give her some room.” He went back for the other two torches and rolled them in the dirt until they went out. He planted them in the ground at crossed angles to mark the spot where Mal had said to dig.
In the light of Dix’s torch, they started up the tunnel, keeping some distance between themselves and Counselor and the prince. When they got to the public foyer, the door to one of the lifts was just closing on Counselor and Prince Garrick.
“Let’s talk.” Edmund led Mal by the elbow to a sofa
in the center of the foyer. “What did those shades show you down there?” He believed the shades had let her see through the dirt and rock. Fine. Good. Let him believe it.
“A room,” she said.
“Do you mean a cave?” Dix said. “Or another tunnel?”
“No, a room. Something built, with walls. I saw a table and cabinets and …” and that other thing.
“A body?”
“A skeleton,” Mal said. “On a cot. Lying on its back with its arms crossed over its chest, like someone had posed it.”
“What else?” Edmund said.
“There was a chain or a necklace dangling from one of the hands.”
“It’s her,” Steve said. “Sky Meadowlark.”
Steve had to be right. What Mal had seen were the remains of Queen Char’s sister, who according to legend had been kept underground by Asherah and commanded to transcribe her revelation.
“Anything else?”
“I don’t know.” Mal shook her head. “Prince Garrick came.”
“Right.” Edmund ran his hands through his hair. “Garrick.”
Dix said, “As soon as any of this gets out, Garrick will claim the remains as historical artifacts. They’ll demand everything for the Musée d’Concordia
.”
Mal didn’t see anything wrong with that. What if there was a sacred scroll? The museum had the best archeologists and scholars. They’d know best how to take care of it. Surely the Concord Cities would support Garrick on that score.
“Mallory,” Edmund said, “could you possibly keep this find a secret?”
“Yes.” What a relief. Harriet and Sister Jordana would know the shades couldn’t penetrate dirt and rock, and the only explanation Mal could think of made her sound crazy. She’d be glad to forget she was ever in the tunnel. “Yes, absolutely.”
Blue Amber
They rode back to the dock in the carriage that had delivered them to the citadel. Again Sister Jordana wouldn’t let Mal take a seat up on the driver’s bench. Claire rode in one of the other carriages. She’d have to stay with the guards during the trip to Red City.
“Mere rumor of contamination from Claire could drive away bidders on your first contract,” Harriet said. “You’ll be starting on the low end anyway, dear, unless we can establish a better provenance for you than settlement orphan.”
At the Ptery’s tent, the old woman was just pulling back the tent flap for someone – a customer, no doubt, hoping the Ptery would tell him he had a soul. Mal remembered what Harriet had said. Whatever happens, you will never have to endure the gauntlet. In a way, that was funny. Mal had always believed she would never get to endure the liminal gauntlet.
“I don’t believe it.” Sister Jordana arched a tattooed eyebrow. “Celia has dropped her appeal on the dragon dagger.”
“Thank Asherah,” Harriet said. “How did she convince Counselor?”
Mal felt heartsick. She could guess what happened. In order to distract Prince Garrick from the tunnel room, Counselor had given in to him on the dagger.
Sister Jordana confirmed as much. “Counselor asked her to drop it this morning.” She read from the compad. “Counselor had a long talk with Prince Garrick and now believes his motives are benign. She’ll smooth it over with the other counselors.”
“It stinks,” Harriet said. Mal liked her more all the time.
“But Celia was right that the appeal would fail,” Sister Jordana said. “It would have been a blow.”
“That’s why Garrick left so early,” Harriet said. “They got what they came for.”
Counselor must have been satisfied that Prince Garrick’s intentions were honorable. Mal didn’t know what she believed anymore.
On the Happy Drone, Claire stayed on deck with the guards, tears still streaming down her face, her long hair whipped about by the wind. She boarded the Blackbird at the back cargo bay behind Mal’s gifts.
“Don’t worry about Claire,” Harriet said when they were in the passenger cabin once again. “Red City will care for her, whatever the outcome.”
“And far better than Lady Drahan did.” Sister Jordana handed her mantle off to an attendant.
“I pray to Asherah she isn’t ruined.” Harriet reached into her pocket for the blood orange she’d saved from breakfast.
“You mean she isn’t ruined now?” Everyone certainly acted as if Claire were ruined.
“There’s a chance my instruments were faulty,” Harriet said. “More likely, Lady Drahan dosed Claire with hormones to induce bleeding, hoping she wouldn’t be found out until she made it through the screen.”
“But if she bleeds, isn’t she a bleeder?”
“Induced bleeding doesn’t signify fertility. Only Asherah can grant that. But there’s another possibility. What if Lady Drahan dosed Claire at the same time Asherah chose her? We’ll keep Claire in quarantine until the contaminants are out of her system and see what happens. She may yet be one of us.”
They settled into their seats, and Mal looked out the window at the sailors on the Happy Drone below. She thought of Edmund, and a contented feeling settled over her. It was nice to know someone like that lived in the world.
Of all the nice things Allel had given her, she liked the blue amber best. She’d send the rocks to Palada and ask him to carve them into beautiful things. Surely he’d never seen a stone turn different colors like that. She’d ask him to make a bee for Counselor.
She found the stone in her pocket and held it up to the window. The warm amber color would always make her think of Allel. She wondered if the dig team was in the tunnel even now.
The Happy Drone emitted three whistle blasts and detached from the Blackbird's stairs. The airship’s cabin door closed, and the yacht drifted away on the roughening water. Mal put on her shades so she could watch it as long as possible.
On the yacht’s deck, someone wearing the pale green jumpsuit of a Blackbird attendant climbed into the jolly boat and pulled the tarp over her head.
Mal lifted her shades and glanced at Sister Jordana and Harriet. Neither had seen. The Blackbird's engines spooled up, and Harriet sighed. “It will be so nice to be home.” She extended her seat to settle in for the flight.
An attendant came out from the galley, her rosebud tattoo distorted by her worried expression. “It’s Jasmine.”
“Is she ill?” Harriet sat up.
“We can’t find Jasmine. She went outside to see the boat, and she didn’t come back.”
“It’s too late, Lily,” Sister Jordana said. “The doors have closed.”
The transport lifted off the water, and the pontoon legs began to retract. The Happy Drone was well away from the airship. Mal was torn. She could reveal Jasmine’s hiding place, but it felt wrong, like betraying a fellow explorer.
“I’ll send a message to the regent.” Sister Jordana pulled the compad from her pocket. “She’s one of us, dear. She won’t let anything happen to Jasmine.”
“If you say so.”
“Why don’t you go have something good to eat? You’ve been working so hard today.”
“That sounds nice.” Lily returned to the galley. Harriet didn’t seem worried about Jasmine. She’d re-extended her seat to full recline and closed her eyes.
Mal sighed. This was a world she hardly understood – no one-day exploration outside the settlement wall. Her life was never going be the same, but that didn’t mean she had to change. She was like the blue amber: The world might see her differently, but she’d always be the same person.
The pontoon legs finished retracting, and the airship began a rapid ascent, ready to take them to Red City.
Black Widow
When Mal was little and she would visit Pala’s house late, she’d fall asleep on purpose so that Palada would have to carry her back to the saloon. She usually woke up draped over his shoulder on the way across the square, but she’d pretend to still be sleeping so he wouldn’t put her down.
It was the safest feeling she ever had.
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The same groggy, half-asleep, in-and-out sense of the world enveloped her now as she awoke, casually slung over the shoulder of a Red City guard.
“Into the tower lift.” Sister Jordana sounded tired. “The Matriarch wants to see her.”
A door slid open and shut, and they were going up. Another lift. Mal wanted to open her eyes so bad she couldn’t stand it.
Coming out of the lift, she heard a far-off argument that got louder as they got closer.
“I can’t do it.” A young woman’s voice, full of pain.
“You can.” An older woman’s voice, emotionless. “You must. You are a chalice. Asherah has chosen you.”
“I don’t care. I won’t. I can’t stand it. You refused.”
“And Asherah has made me pay.”
Mal stretched and pretended to wake up. This sounded worth watching. The guard put her down in the dark and cavernous room.
The older woman must be another chalice. She was as vibrant and youthful as Sister Jordana though Mal thought she might be older. She wore a black turban, and the tattoo of a red dagger plunged through her left eye down to her jaw. A tattooed black widow spider covered her left shoulder.
The protesting girl looked about Counselor’s age or a little older, though who knew with these people. She had short white hair and skin so pale she was either sick or a special species. Her sleeveless hot pink top exposed the roses on her right biceps, but she had no other tattoos. She shifted her balance from foot to foot with the wary menace of a trapped wolf.
Harriet opened her arms. “Saskia.”
“Don’t.” Saskia’s hand shot up in a defensive block and she turned away. She froze when she saw Sister Jordana. Her shoulders relaxed as her rage broke, and when she saw Mal she rolled her eyes.
What odd blue eyes! Not the light, sky blue that signaled weak DNA. The color was dark and bright, like they might glow in the dark, and her tears made them glitter. She headed for the door with a choked whisper. “I’ve got to get out of here.”
