by Obert Skye
For many of the past years Cusp had been a peaceful place where nits manipulated dreams and used their gifts to build the city and better Foo. Cusp was also slow to join sides in the fight to right Foo. Most of the residents were happy to pretend that everything was just fine with Foo and Reality. Recently Azure had spent a lot of energy and time trying to recruit nits in Cusp to join him and the movement to mesh Foo with Reality.
Cusp wasn’t dark like Morfit, or remote like Fté. It had architecture and ingenuity. And there was a sense of security and order in Cusp that so much of Foo lacked at the moment.
“It always makes me happy just to be here,” Leven said.
“That’s just that cage girl making you think that,” Clover said.
“Yeah, I don’t know how to trust my own feelings anymore,” Winter added.
“Phoebe doesn’t change your feelings,” Geth said. “You’ll simply long more for what you always have wanted.”
“So when Leven kissed Winter . . .” Clover started to say.
“Hey, there’s one of those ropes,” Winter said quickly, pointing to one of the many long, taut strands of rope that ran down the street in any number of directions.
The ropes were systematically strung all along the roads and sidewalks. They were held up by dark green poles with what looked like little carved monkeys on top.
“I’ve never used the ropes before,” Geth admitted. “It’s a relatively new way to get about. A nit from South America invented it.”
“How does it work?” Winter asked.
“Hold onto the rope and say where you would like to go out loud.”
“It pulls you there?” Leven asked.
“Kind of,” Geth answered.
Winter stepped up to the rope, gripped it with her right hand, and said, “Far Hall.”
Nothing happened.
“Wow,” Clover said. “I’m glad I didn’t blink.”
“Is it supposed to . . .”
Winter stopped talking. Her hand was beginning to weave itself into the rope. She tried to pull it back, but she couldn’t. The rope pulled Winter into it, stretching her into threads and weaving all of her into the taut line. Two seconds later she was gone, nothing but a shaded bit of rope racing away down the line.
“That’s not right,” Leven said.
“It’s organic or something,” Geth said. “You become one with the rope until it hopefully unspools you at your destination. Who’s next?”
“I actually don’t mind walking,” Clover said. “It’s kind of a nice day.”
“Didn’t Angus say there were some problems?” Leven reminded Geth.
“In the beginning a few of the travelers came out mixed with parts of other travelers. I think the kinks have been worked out, though.”
“Comforting,” Leven smiled.
“Last one there is . . . well, you know.” Geth grabbed ahold of the rope, a giant grin on his face. “Far Hall,” he announced.
It worked even faster on Geth. His hand wove into the rope and the rope pulled the rest of him into the line as if he were a string unraveling in reverse.
“That’s unsettling to watch,” Leven said.
“You’re not actually going to do it, are you?” Clover asked nervously. “Look, it’s just me and you—like old times. We can walk and talk and skip. I’ll read something out loud to you as we travel. It’ll be nice to stretch your legs. Won’t it be nice to stretch your legs?”
“There’s no time,” Leven said. “Besides, Winter would never let me hear the end of it.”
“You might be part of the end of Winter if you try it.”
Leven held Clover in his left arm and grabbed onto the line.
“Far Hall.”
“Where’s my say in this?” Clover argued as Leven’s right limb became a long strand of stretched-out twine.
Leven and Clover were pulled into the line.
The feeling was sensational. It felt like being pulled through a tube that was half an inch too narrow. A burning and confusing feeling shot through Leven’s body, while long strands of multicolored light spiraled around him as he traveled. He could feel impulses passing through him like freezing cold water in his stomach.
Then, with a sound similar to a full reel of fishing line being let loose, Leven shot out of the rope into a tightly coiled pile of himself. He breathed in and his body gelled together. Winter was standing right next to him with an open mouth.
Leven set Clover down and began to pat himself, making sure everything was in place.
“You’re all there,” Geth said. “Unless there’s some strand missing inside of you.”
They were standing in a small stone structure that was open on both ends. The rope ran straight through the center.
“That was pretty amazing,” Winter said.
A mother and two young children unraveled from the rope directly in front of them. The mother told her kids to keep moving and then walked out of the rope station. A man with a flushed face carrying a large bundle of flowers stepped in and grabbed the rope.
“Thirteen-eighteen Duncan Way.”
He was pulled into the thick rope and gone.
“Couldn’t someone cut the rope?” Clover asked.
“I suppose,” Geth said. “But you’d just be rerouted.”
“Let’s do it again,” Clover said, reaching out.
“Not yet,” Leven stopped him. “We have to see if Azure’s here.”
They stepped out of the rope stop and crossed a large cobblestone street. Onicks shuffled and galloped in both directions, carrying passengers and wares around Cusp. On the other side of the road was Far Hall, a large stone building sitting on a tall granite foundation. Far Hall had a dozen floors and arched windows that looked like webs covering the whole place. It was made of pink stone that appeared wet under the new morning sunlight. The doors were all wood with round wooden beams that slid across their fronts and locked into place. In each of the rounded windows a yellow-robed nit stood holding a kilve and wearing an expression of focused concentration.
“Azure must be here,” Geth said. “They would never have such a heavy presence of security if there weren’t someone important or troublesome visiting.”
Twenty wide granite steps led to the wide front entrance. Two young boys were walking around shouting about the news in the
latest edition of the Scroll. Leven climbed the steps quickly with Geth and Winter in tow. Geth addressed the short yellow-robed guard at the entrance.
“Is the Twit in?” Geth asked.
“That’s a question only to be asked by those with authority,” the guard replied hotly.
“Then will you tell him Geth’s here?”
“Geth?” the guard said with surprise.
Geth nodded back.
“Geth the lithen?”
“Yes.”
“You can tell him yourself,” the guard motioned. “I was raised in a home that still values what you’ve done.”
“Then you were raised well,” Geth smiled.
“Come,” the guard said. “Follow me.”
Inside the front doors, the building opened up like a great cathedral. The ceiling was covered with colored glass that allowed the sunlight to shine down in intricate patterns against the light tiled floor. Thick velvet curtains were draped over hundreds of windows and chairs that would have looked at home in a posh, stuffy castle. Spiral staircases circled up and into large holes leading to other floors and places.
“Is Azure here?” Geth asked the guard.
“He arrived hours ago,” the guard answered. “He debates with the Twit in the square chamber.”
“It might be best if we were to approach without a lot of notice,” Geth said. “Fate would be fortunate to hear what’s being discussed without them knowing I’m there.”
“Then fate moves me to be on my way,” the guard said. “You will find them in the square chamber. There are many others looking on. If it were me, I would approach through the far door a
nd probably not be noticed at all.”
“Thank you,” Geth nodded.
The guard bowed and backed away.
“There’s still good in Cusp,” Geth said.
The four of them wound their way up a wide spiral staircase into a light hole. The space was squat, with thick rugs and low ceilings. There were three doors, all tightly closed.
“Around the side,” Geth instructed. “There’s another door.”
Geth turned the corner and slipped into a tiled nook off the tight hallway. The door in the nook was unlocked and opened without noise. The sound of people shifting drifted out and up like tepid wind.
A man inside was speaking.
Geth slid into the back row and scooted down far enough for Leven and Winter to fit in. They were well hidden by the crowd, which began to murmur in agreement with the man speaking.
The room was square with a high, pointed, glass ceiling. Marble pillars lined three walls, holding up a balcony. At the front of the room was a tall seat with a low wooden wall surrounding it and a small strip of fuzzy red flooring in front of it. The remainder of the room was filled with benches for spectators. Almost every seat was occupied and there were some people sitting casually on the floor near the front.
“That’s Azure,” Winter said with poison in her voice. She pointed towards the man who had been talking. He was now pacing back and forth on the fuzzy flooring.
Azure had on a long blue robe with black markings on the edges. He had broad shoulders and was as tall as Geth. His hair was long and dark and he looked young, like Geth. It seemed apparent by the way he spoke and moved that he was knowledgeable and thought he was smarter than he actually was. His dark eyes looked over the crowd with a manufactured sincerity. His right ear was red and swollen and when he moved he favored his left side so as to keep the ear out of sight.
“We move in bulk, but we seek only peace,” Azure said. “We are soldiers in pursuit of peace.”
The Twit was sitting in the throne. He wore a high, funny-
looking red wig and had a short gray beard and big square glasses. The Twit looked much older than Azure and wore a far less sophisticated brown robe. His hands were small and folded neatly in his lap right below his round stomach. He unfolded his hands and scratched at his nose, looking both bothered and bored.
A small, thin man with fluffy blond hair and a fancy purple robe was sitting near the throne writing everything down. The back wall of the room was lined with guards all holding kilves.
“You wish to occupy land that rests directly next to Cusp,” the Twit said. “If you were the Twit, I wonder if you would be so quick to allow permission.”
“If I had the word of someone such as I,” Azure said strongly.
“Such as you? There’s much sordid talk about one such as you,” the Twit said, his red wig jiggling.
“Talk?” Azure smiled.
“Yes, talk,” the Twit said. “Of course, people often speak without understanding, but let’s see if I understand. You say you wish only to march down the gloam and occupy the stones the lithens have abandoned?”
“Yes,” Azure said. “As we continue our search for a pathway out of Foo.”
The Twit laughed as others in the square chamber fidgeted in their seats.
“Such a pathway does not exist,” the Twit said. “I know because I’ve read many books addressing the subject.”
“You are most learned,” Azure said. “But with no offense intended, we believe differently.”
“There’s also talk of you stealing gifts and digging up metal,” the Twit said.
The audience hissed.
“I am not here to debate what those in Morfit do,” Azure said. “I . . .”
“I’m not talking of those in Morfit,” the Twit said heatedly. “There’s talk of gift stealing here on the edges of Cusp, by those who pledge allegiance to you.”
“Would you deny those who wish to shed the responsibility of their gifts?” Azure argued. “There are many who tire of what they have been burdened with. Why should they have to hold onto their gifts if they don’t wish to? As for metal, I can’t be responsible for what a few rogue rants dig up.”
“You’ve brought the rants here. And so many of them,” the Twit said. “It’s your casual excusing of order that concerns me.”
“Rest easy,” Azure said. “You will see in time that we seek no malice.”
“I should hope so, and Cusp does not seek to regulate all of Foo. The Sentinel Fields are yours to occupy for the time being. However, if your gathering bleeds into the Meadows we will be forced to use our strength to hold you back.”
The audience moaned and chattered. An old woman with a wide, floppy hat barked at Azure while others booed her.
“Trust me, we seek no war,” Azure assured them all. “We’ve done nothing to harm you, and when the soil in the gloam settles we will be on our way with all who wish to join us.”
“I want no talk of pathways out of Foo,” the Twit insisted. “We still believe there is importance in our relationship with the dreams of man. You are an idiot to think as you do, but perhaps the lesson of your failure will be what is required to teach you so.”
Azure tried to calm his nerves by breathing deeply.
“I will obey your wish,” Azure finally said. “But let me say before this crowd and all who have ears, that believing there’s no way out is a foolish tradition. We have proof of Geth leaving and returning with others.”
Leven looked at Geth.
“That gateway was destroyed,” the Twit said.
“We believe there’s another,” Azure said. “A permanent opening he used many, many years ago.”
The Twit shook his head. “That’s a myth wrapped up with the origin of the Dearth. Sabine and his shadows searched Foo for years looking for any gateway.”
“But there were places they didn’t reach,” Azure said boldly. “Spots on the Thirteen Stones, and the island of Alder.”
“What if your supposed opening went down with the sinking of Lith?” the Twit sniffed impatiently. “What then?”
Azure stood there silently, opening and closing his fists.
“I don’t believe it, but what do I care?” The Twit waved his hand. “Waste your time as you wish, but do not bother the harmony of Cusp. We take our calm very seriously.”
“I wouldn’t dream of it,” Azure said with oil in his voice. “We desire nothing but peace.”
“That’s a lie,” Geth said, standing up.
The entire audience turned around as if on hinges. Geth pushed his hood back and looked directly at Azure’s blue eyes. The crowd was cheering and clapping, quite happy with the disturbance. They began to mumble and titter with excitement.
Azure’s eyes glowed blue and then dimmed.
“Geth,” Azure said, shaking, his face pale. “You’re the last person I expected to see.”
“Sorry to disappoint you.” Geth stepped out of his seat and into the aisle. “Azure seeks to overthrow Cusp, your honor. He has awakened the Dearth.”
The crowd laughed.
“Geth,” the Twit said with enthusiasm. “You live. How interesting.”
“No thanks to Azure,” Geth said. “He left us for dead.”
“Explain,” the Twit said.
“I’m afraid Geth’s confused,” Azure said, trying to regain his composure. “Geth seeks to keep everyone living in the past and captive to the old ways. He tells the story as if he were innocent. It was I who was left for dead.”
“That’s not true,” Winter said passionately. “I was there.”
“Hold on, this is not a trial,” the Twit barked, his red wig shaking as he did so. “People speak when they are addressed. I paid for this position and you will respect me.”
Winter’s face burned pink under the reprimand.
“She’s telling the truth,” Leven said, standing. “Azure’s working to ruin Foo.”
The Twit’s face flushed red. He held up his hands and then to
ok off his glasses and rubbed his swollen eyes. He adjusted his wig and snapped his fingers.
“Drink,” the Twit said loudly.
A tall guard entered the room carrying a porcelain pitcher and stein. The guard poured some liquid into the stein and passed it to the Twit.
Leven closed his eyes as the Twit drank.
“Still coming up blank?” Clover whispered into Leven’s ear, recognizing what Leven was trying to do. “Would it help if I hit you on the back of the head?”
Leven pushed back his dark hair and stared at the glass ceiling. The room was warm and the heat he felt in his cheeks was scorching.
“I bet if the Twit were an animal or creature of some sort you could control him,” Clover added.
The Twit handed his cup back to the guard and exhaled. He stood and glared at Winter and Leven. He looked at Azure and Azure bowed respectfully.
“Geth,” the Twit asked, “are these two interruptions with you?”
Geth nodded.
“You’d be wise to teach them manners,” the Twit chastised. “And you say the Dearth is free?”
“Yes,” Geth answered.
“Well, I have no concern for the Dearth,” the Twit said sternly. “The tales of his existence and desires are stories I was told as a child to keep me from wandering into the Swollen Forest or away from the hills of Morfit. My heart’s happy to see you, Geth. You are still spoken of with kindness, but you don’t understand what’s happening. You were away while much progressed.”
Geth looked the Twit directly in the eye. “Progressed?”
“This is a different time,” the Twit said calmly. “To hear you speak of the Dearth only confirms my fear that you’re lost in a past that has long since slipped away. True, I do not trust Azure
completely, but his intentions are clear and if he seeks foolishness then so be it. My concern is with Cusp and our level of society.”
“And we seek only for peace and possibility,” Azure said.
“You seek to destroy Foo entirely,” Geth replied.
“This is not a trial,” the Twit said again. “The mood here is attached to my decision. Azure, we will not react to your followers as you wait for the gloam to grow. But if I feel for a moment that the comfort of those in Cusp is being compromised, we will incite our forces and push against you.”
