City of Thirst

by Carrie Ryan

  She turned back to their own snail and bent to get a closer look. “Aren’t you pretty?” she whispered. She’d always been a sucker for animals. “What’s her name?”

  Slandy shrugged. “Name? Don’t think anyone’s ever given one to a levator snail.”

  Marrill frowned. For all the work these creatures did, she couldn’t believe they didn’t get named. “Well, we’re fixing that right now.” She crouched, resting a hand against the shell and petting it lightly. “A name for a levator snail. Hmmm… Beatrix?” The creature didn’t react. Marrill bit her lip, running names through her head.

  Then it came to her. “Elle!” she declared in triumph. “Elle the levator snail! It’s perfect!” The creature’s big tongue came out and swiped up her cheek. Marrill took that as confirmation. “Elle it is!” She stood up. “Slandy, can I have a fruit?”

  The Monervan looked back at her in amusement. “Sure, kid.” She tossed one of the purple things to Marrill, who fed it to Elle with glee. “Seems like you’ve made a friend,” their guide remarked. “She’ll remember you for life, I’d wager. Levators are nothing if not loyal.”

  Slandy strode to the edge of the platform, leaping straight onto the roof of a sinking house. “Time to be off,” she called over her shoulder. “Have to meet the missus; wouldn’t want to be late for the party.”

  Marrill glanced at Fin, who seemed to have the same thought she did, because they both scrambled after her. “Wait,” Marrill called. “Can we ask you a question?”

  “Sure,” Slandy responded. She didn’t slow as she made her way across a series of interwoven glass beams, which stretched between the gap where an impressive tower must once have stood.

  “Have you ever heard of the Syphon of Monerva?” Marrill asked.

  Slandy paused halfway up a ladder, her right face giving them a strange look. Then she burst out laughing. Marrill’s cheeks heated and she shifted, uncomfortable.

  “A’course!” the Monervan said. “Where did you think you were?”

  Fin and Marrill exchanged confused frowns. Right now, it looked like they were on a roof that was in the process of being dismantled. “Pardon?”

  “Oh, well… hang on.” Slandy glanced around, then leapt from her ladder onto the wide surface of a passing gear. She waved for them to follow. The gear rotated at a decent clip, and they had to walk to keep from being dashed against the Wall. With Slandy being over eight feet tall, what was a slow saunter for her was more like a gallop for Marrill.

  “If you want to be technical-like, this is the Syphon of Monerva.” Slandy stamped her foot against the gear. “Part of it, anyways. The Wall is part of the great machine, you know. Least the gears are. The actual wall part is rock. But I suppose what you want to know is where the wishes get made. And I’m afraid no one knows that.”

  Marrill looked around, careful to keep her pace up. “This whole thing was the Wish Machine? Any idea how it works?”

  “All I know is what anyone knows. Water gets sucked in. Gears turn. More water comes in, more gears turn. It was all pretty regular for a while, though it’s been speeding up the last couple years, which is a bit hard on the folks what built atop ’em. Can’t help but be a good thing, though, I reckon.” Slandy shrugged. “Beyond that, you’d have to ask the Dawn Wizard; he’s the one who built it.”

  Fin tugged Marrill’s sleeve. “Hey, didn’t Ardent say something about it taking a whole lot of Stream water to grant wishes?” he whispered. “That must be what’s happening! The Syphon sucks in Stream water to turn it into wishes.”

  Marrill nodded eagerly. But her steps slowed as she was drawn back to the strange memory the Wiverwanes had given her. The King and the Dawn Wizard walked together through the Dangling Garden. “Wishes are great things, O King,” the Wizard chirped. “Are you ready to end a world you’ve never seen before?”

  “So, can we? Talk to the Dawn Wizard, I mean?” Marrill asked, sprinting to catch up.

  Again, Slandy laughed. “Course not! He was Dzane, that one—a powerful and tricky bunch, they say, and the Dawn Wizard was the last of ’em. Hasn’t been heard from since he made the place.”

  Marrill’s heart raced. The Syphon had been built by one of the Dzane. The only beings, according to Ardent, who might be powerful enough to make a machine that could grant wishes. It was the last bit of confirmation she needed. The Wish Machine was real.

  “And even if ’twere possible,” Slandy continued, “I wouldn’t recommend it. He’s a trickster, that one. ’S why it’s taken so long for the Salt Sand King to get his final wish.” She reached out, wrapping a hand around a trellis that had slid within reach.

  “Last question,” Fin said, surging forward. “Has anyone else ever found the Syphon and made a wish? Is it possible?”

  Slandy glanced around, clearly wondering where he’d come from. “Far as I know, no one’s ever tried.” She stepped off the gear and started to climb.

  “Why not?” Fin called.

  She looked back, eyeing them both for a long time. “Who wants to go fooling with Dzane magic? As the old saying goes, ‘To get what you want, you must give what you have,’ and who’s to say the getting is worth the giving? Legend has it, our King was given three wishes, and three noble wishes he made. Two came true. Ever since, the Boundless Plains have been lost and burning, and Monerva’s been cut off from the Stream.”

  She went back to climbing. “Wishes are tricky things is all I’m saying. And that’s what happened when a good smart fella like the Salt Sand King used the Machine. He was the one what ordered it built in the first place. Who knows what would happen to you or me?”

  She slung her leg over a railing. “Now let’s party.” And with that, the Monervan disappeared out of sight.

  CHAPTER 14

  That One Dream Where You’re Falling

  Athrill of excitement shot through Fin as he leapt onto the trellis. He held out a hand for Marrill. “Did you hear that?” he asked as she joined him.

  “Yeah,” she said, struggling to catch her breath. “Ominous.”

  Fin shook his head, laughing. “Everyone thinks everything’s ominous. I think it’s just confirmation we’re on the right path.”

  She looked at him quizzically, so he explained as he climbed. “Now we know for sure that the Syphon exists and that it grants wishes. The Salt Sand King got his, right? Most of them at least. Who’s to say about that last wish anyway? I bet he just wished to get out of here and never looked back.”

  On top of the trellis, they found themselves in the midst of a massive party, already in full swing. The timing couldn’t have been more perfect. “Come on,” he said. “This is something to celebrate. There’s a real honest Wish Machine right here!”

  Even though night had fallen across Monerva, the grand terrace was lit up as bright as daytime. Pipes filled with glowing Stream water weaved everywhere: through the glass underfoot, along the railings, even overhead, splitting into branches like the limbs of a tree.

  Music swirled from every direction. Some of the instruments made the air heavy, almost solid, so that you had to wade through it, kicking aside chord progressions along the way. Others were more taste than sound, causing Fin’s tongue to tingle. All around them, split-faced Monervans danced and laughed as the broad terrace dropped slowly down the Wall.

  “Whoa,” Marrill said, eyes wide as she took it in. “This is crazy. What do you think they’re celebrating?”

  Fin gave her a wink. “Let’s find out.” Before she could stop him, he bounded on top of a nearby table crowded with Monervans. He swiped a mug from the hand of a rather surprised-looking creature with glowing hair, then bounced away before the owner could do anything about it. With a shout, he held the mug up high. “A toast, everyone, all together now!” he bellowed. “Here’s to…”

  The Monervans around the table raised their glasses. “To the turn of the gears!”

  “Here’s to the turn of the gears!” Fin echoed, egging them on. “Because…”
>
  “When the last gear turns, the King gets his final wish!” they cried, lifting their mugs even higher.

  “And Monerva returns to the Stream, and the King reigns over all the lands!” said one particularly wobbly-looking man.

  Fin knocked back whatever was in the mug, cringing at the sweetly bitter taste. The crowd around him cheered. He danced a little jig, just to show off a bit.

  After a huge bow, he dropped back to the ground next to Marrill. She was laughing, her eyes bright, and it made him warm inside to know he’d been the cause of her happiness. “There you have it,” he told her. “Gears turn, King gets his last wish, everyone gets back to the Stream.”

  A bit of worry crept back into her expression. “So that’s how everyone returns to the Stream, huh? The Salt Sand King’s final wish.” She tapped her fingers against her mouth, thinking. All around, the Monervans wheeled into a raucous dance, singing.

  The Salt Sand King made Wishes Three

  Who knows what his wish will be?

  One for an army that never falls

  Two for strength to bring peace to all

  Three for everyone to be free

  Turn those gears, let wish three be!

  Fin’s belly growled. He glanced around and spotted a woman carting two bowls of green stew nearby. With a quick step, he dodged in front of her and swiped them. Then he ducked behind her and dodged back out again, sweeping the bowls behind his back. “He went thataway,” he said, giving her his most innocent eyes. The woman growled and pushed her way through the crowd after the nonexistent thief.

  Once she was out of sight, Fin presented a bowl to Marrill with a “Tralada!”

  She sighed, but took it. “You shouldn’t steal, you know.”

  “So you keep telling me,” he replied with a grin. Then he took a deep sip of the soup. It exploded across his tongue with sharp flavors that made him gulp it even faster.

  “You’re not going to be able to do that anymore once you’re memorable,” Marrill told him as she took a cautious taste.

  “Why not?” he asked.

  She shrugged. “You just can’t. When people remember you, they get opinions that are hard to change. You have to worry about what folks are thinking all the time.”

  Fin’s expression turned serious. “No, you don’t. You be yourself—if they don’t like you for it, they’re not worth your time.” And then he grinned. “Case in point—you can remember me just fine, and you seem to think I’m all right.”

  She shook her head, but didn’t argue. “I wish I could be like you sometimes. Doing whatever I want, going on great adventures. Sailing the Stream.”

  Fin took another deep gulp. He braced himself, unsure how to say the next bit. So he just spat it out. “You could, you know. Just stay on the Pirate Stream.” He tried to make it sound like a joke, but he couldn’t keep the earnestness out of his voice.

  Next to them, several snail lines dropped down, snatched a segment of the terrace, and hauled it up into the sky. It did little to stop the party; the people on board continued with their revelry, even as the terrace swayed under their weight.

  “If I don’t get my wish,” Marrill said, her voice cracking, “maybe I will stay here forever.”

  Fin didn’t miss how troubled she sounded. Deep down inside, he knew that would never happen. Sure, they had to stop the Iron Tide and save the Stream from… whatever. If everything went as planned, they’d even get their wishes.

  And then she’d go home to her real family, just as she had before.

  But at least he’d be memorable. He’d make lots of friends then. And until that point, well, relying on himself was the first thing he’d learned to do in life. That’s what the Quay taught a kid. Relying on others just left you hungry and alone.

  It was a tricky balance—still hoping and yet holding on to reality. Hope too much, and the setbacks would be crippling. Don’t hope enough, and he’d have never gone searching. Because if there was anything that meeting Marrill had taught him, it was the limitless possibility of being seen and remembered. The joy of it, but also the pain. The knowing that even if someone remembered you, you still couldn’t count on them being there. They would still leave.

  He reached out and gripped Marrill’s hand. “Don’t worry,” he told her, even though the words hurt to say. “We’ll get it done. We’ll find the Wish Machine and get your mom better. And then you can go home.”

  She smiled up at him. The moonlight caught the edges of her tears, making them shimmer. “Thanks, Fin.” She leaned her head on his shoulder. “You’re the best friend ever.”

  Something squeezed tight in Fin’s chest. These were the moments he’d missed the most after she’d left. The shared ones. When you could look at another person and know what they were thinking. And know that with a glance they could share what you were thinking.

  Beside him Marrill yawned. He felt his own eyelids growing heavy. He stretched, pulling away. “It’s late,” he said. “We should sleep for a bit. We’ll hitch a ride up the Wall in the morning. Then we’ll find that Wish Machine and wish the Iron Ship right into rust.”

  She glanced around. “I didn’t happen to see any hotels on the way up.”

  He grinned and pressed a hand to his chest. “Luckily, you happen to be with the Stream’s foremost expert on scavenging for snacks and dark corners to nap in,” he pronounced. That expertise came, he thought, with never having a place to call your own.

  Fin crept into the tall tower, silent as the wind. The shadows wobbled around him. Outside, the lights of the Khaznot Quay burned bright, all the way down to the bay. In the middle of the room, the forgettable girl waited. Over his head, a huge bell clanged to life.

  BONG!

  “Remember me?” the girl asked.

  BONG!

  The symbol on her bracelet burst into flames.

  BONG!

  Also he wasn’t wearing any pants.

  BONG!

  Fin woke up to the clanging of bells all around him. He jumped to his feet, instinctively looking for guards.

  Instead, he found himself teetering on the edge of a massive drop, looking down at the ship-strewn marsh. The sun smacked bright in his eyes. Reflected, he realized, from the hundreds of crystals hanging all around him. The same crystals that now clanged with noise.

  “Marrill!” he shouted, lunging toward her sleeping body. “Get up! We’re in the Chimes!”

  “MmmIdonwannagotoschool,” she mumbled, “gunnasleepfurfivemoreminutes.…”

  He shook her vigorously. “Marrill, come on,” he said. If Slandy was right, it was get up now or fall all the way back to the Grovel. He couldn’t believe how far the city had dropped while they’d been asleep! “We’ve got to start up the Wall before it’s too late!”

  She let out a big sniffly snort and rolled over, right to the edge. Her eyes fluttered open, then went wide. “Bwaa!” she shouted, scooting away. “All right, all right, I’m awake!”

  “About time,” Fin grumbled. He hauled her to her feet. Together, they leaned out, searching for a way up.

  Climbing was totally out of the question. The city was falling too fast. A nearby gear—barely a cog, really—had been level with his feet when he woke up. Now it was almost even with his head.

  But then, there was another cog just beside it, and another beside it, and another, and another, each jutting half out of the Wall. Like stepping-stones in a river, they led across the face of the falling city, over to a much larger gear. One of the few they’d seen, he realized, that wasn’t turning. If they could reach it, they could get a moment to think.

  He grabbed the little cog next to him. It was just small enough to wrap his hand around. Unfortunately, unlike their destination, it was turning, disappearing into the Wall on one end and reappearing out of the other. He pulled his hand away quickly before it could get crushed.

  Fin took in a deep breath. They fell farther; the cog was now even higher above them. The moment was passing.

 
; He made up his mind quickly.

  “Okay,” he told Marrill, “I’ll grab this one and swing you to the one beside it. If we move fast, there should be just enough time for you to grab it, swing me, then let go before your fingers get smashed. Then repeat. Swing, grab, go, swing, grab, go. Got it?”

  Marrill shook her head furiously. “No,” she said. “Just… no.”

  Fin glanced up at the gear. They’d almost passed it; it was now or never. And he didn’t see another way. “It’ll be fine. Just, you know, do what I do.”

  With that, he leapt up and grabbed the gear. In the same motion, he swung his body out of the alcove, kicking against the face of the falling buildings.

  “Come on!” he shouted to Marrill. “I’ll swing you, you grab that next one!” He reached for her with his free hand. “Trust me!”

  “You’re crazy!” she yelled back. For a second, he thought she wouldn’t do it. The gear turned in his grip. Time was running out.

  “This is a terrible idea!” she cried. But she jumped for him anyway. Her hand hit his. He pulled her out, swinging her past him as hard as he could.

  Marrill’s feet skipped across the buildings. Her weight yanked against his arm. The turning gear yanked the other arm the other way. Fin twisted around as she swung, pulled in two directions. “Yuuurk!” he cried.

  “Got it!” Marrill shouted triumphantly. Fin let out a cry of relief. Back now to the Wall, he planted his feet for a brief second, gripped Marrill’s hand tight, and kicked off toward her, letting go of the gear at the same time.

  “Agh, what have you been eating?” Marrill warbled as she caught his weight. His feet skimmed along windowsills, bounced across buttresses as he swung. He launched himself up, as high as he could, and caught the next gear. Then it was his turn to be a human rope-swing again.