“The Commission has agreed to give him Citizenship, based on the level he achieved.” There is a distinct note of pride in Mistress’ voice as she says this. A gasp runs the table, a soft murmur of excitement, before she adds, “And Sabah will be going with him, as his Insurance.”
Her words are met with silence, and I glance down the table. Kaida’s eyes are huge and confused. Alba is furious, Dayila looking between the two of us fearfully. I feel a pang of sympathy for the poor girl—Alba will be hellish over the next few days, I’m sure.
“What about the rest of us?” Lilith asks, her voice shrill.
Mistress sighs. “I will, of course, do my best to see you all settled and safe. I can’t promise Citizenship—but for most of you, we have years yet.”
“When are you leaving?” Guin asks, quietly. The question is directed at Berg and me, and I glance at Berg. I have no idea, and from the blank expression on his face, he doesn’t either. I stifle a sigh—has it even occurred to him that Citizenship would entail leaving the Manor and the Mistress?
“Within the week,” Mistress says. I exchange a wild look with Berg, and look at her.
“That soon?” I demand. “Is that necessary?”
Mistress’ eyes are unflinching when she looks at me. They’re hard, brown stones, and it makes me pale. When she looks this cold, this remote, it is terrifying. “Berg is to report to the University in two weeks,” she says, icily. “I would think you’d both appreciate time to settle in before then.”
That makes sense. I can’t look at Kaida— at any of them. I can’t face the hurt in their eyes.
“Tomorrow, your sponsor will be by to discuss the move.”
A sponsor? I try to hide my confusion, looking at my plate. Without saying anything else, Mistress motions for Cook to bring the food to the table.
Silence descends, broken only by the soft clatter of plates and slurps of soup. I concentrate on my food. On anything other than Kaida sniffling between Guin and Cedric, or Alba glaring at me.
As Cook and Gwen clear the bowls of stew and bring in a platter of roasted potatoes, Kaida jerks to her feet. She says something, but I can’t understand it she’s so incoherent. Guin starts to stand, and the Mistress levels a glare at him. “Sit down,” she snaps.
“I’ll go,” I say, standing.
I don’t wait for her to nod, just hurry after Kaida.
She’s collapsed on the couch in the library, and ignores me as I sink down to the floor next to her. I rub her shoulders, sharp under the thin dress she wears in the house. I’ll need to speak to Lilith about getting Kaida a new dress, before I leave.
“It’s not that bad,” I murmur, brushing her hair away from her face. “You have the boys, you know.”
“You’re both leaving,” she whimpers into the cushion.
There is that—it won’t just be me vanishing into the City. Berg will, too.
“Who will tell me stories?” she asks, her voice pathetically small. I flinch. That isn’t a question I can answer—I don’t want to answer. It is too much. Too sharp a reminder that she is still only a child.
“You’ll tell each other stories,” I force myself to say. “They love you, Kaida. And the love from a good friend—that can get you through some amazing and impossible things.”
She looks at me, her face streaked with tears. “They aren’t you.”
I gather her in my arms, and kiss her hair. There is no false assurance I can offer. So I say instead, “Let me tell you a story.
“There was a girl. She lived in a beautiful, ancient castle that was very dangerous. It was filled with secrets and stories she never imagined. But despite that, she was happy there. She had a family she loved. A beautiful queen—even a handsome prince.” I smile. “But something happened.”
“What?” Kaida’s voice is curious.
“She grew up,” I say simply. “She began to see the secrets that lay hidden in plain sight. And they disturbed her. She worried—for herself, for the children who filled the castle with laughter, for her prince, and the queen.
“One day, she was thinking while she took a walk. And she somehow lost the castle. She wandered in the woods, until she found a beast. He was angry, furious. He wanted her to go back to her castle. But she was intrigued by him. And she did not know, anymore, where home was. So she stayed with the beast. She found herself less and less scared of him. And somehow, somewhere between learning about the curse that had made him so angry and befriending his family, she fell in love with him. With all of them.”
Kaida’s tears have dried, and she stares at me, rapt with attention.
“But there was the handsome prince. And the children. They tugged at her, despite her love of the beast. One day, there was a terrible fire—it destroyed half of the woods, and left one of the beast’s brothers maimed. And the beast was so angry. He sent the girl away. It made him sad, and it broke her heart, but she went, because he didn’t love her. They said their goodbyes and she went to live with her prince.”
“And the beast?” she demands.
I smile. “He went back to the woods. Guarded his family. Forgot there was ever a girl in a castle who loved him.”
She looks at me, her nose wrinkled. “Sabah, that story is awful.”
I laugh, and tickle her. “That’s why I let Berg tell them.”
She squirms away from me, and leans back on the couch. For a long time, we’re quiet, listening to the clatter from the kitchen and the soft crackle of the fire. The thump of feet on the stairs.
“We know,” she says presently, “about the secrets.”
Alarm fills me and I look at her sharply. She adds, “Not what they are, but we know the Mistress is hiding something.”
Relief fills me. “Don’t forget that, sweetheart. Trust the boys—and yourself.”
She nods, then asks, “Will we see you again?”
I think of the way Berg watches the Mistress. The love of knowledge that lies between them, an unbreakable cord. I try to imagine Berg without his head bent over a book, the Mistress watching from a few steps away. It’s impossible.
“Yes.”
Kaida sighs, satisfied, resting her head on my shoulder.
The boys find us, eventually. They approach cautiously, giving either of us time to send them away. Cedric drops into a chair, his eyes darting over us, as Guin clears his throat. “Berg is looking for you.”
I shrug. “He’ll find me.” Guin and Cedric exchange a look and lapse into a comfortable silence.
“She was wrong,” Kaida says at last.
“Who was?” Cedric asks, confused.
“The girl in the story. She thought he didn’t love her. That he’d forget,” she looks at me, her eyes bright, challenging. “But he wanted her safe. He did love her—enough to send her where he thought she would be safest.”
Chapter 24
Sharp edges stab my palm as I sit and stare at the fire. Merc’s words taunt me, as much as Kaida’s pronouncement from last night. Deep inside, I can feel hope taking root, despite my best efforts. My hand clenches on the tiny note, and for a moment, I want to throw it into the flames.
Merc had insisted that if I listened to what was actually said, I would know. But know what, exactly? And how much clearer could Arjun have been?
You have to go back.
You have to stay there.
Even now, I want to scream to block the words that have been an echoing refrain all through the long night, want to scream that this wasn’t my choice. He had sent me back to the City.
A knock startles me, and I shove the folded paper under my pillow. Berg pokes his head into the room and I smooth the front of my new yellow dress. “Is he here?”
He shakes his head. “He’s not coming.”
“Why not?” I demand, standing.
“The Mistress needs to speak to both of us.”
He avoids my eyes, and I stifle the urge to yell at him. Instead I follow him through the Manor, up to my garret. I am surpris
ed that she chose this for our meeting.
She’s holding a miniature tablet in her lap. I can see a hovertransport outside.
If our sponsor is not coming, why is there a hovertransport?
“You’re here. Good,” she says it briskly, and hands me the tablet.
I look at it, briefly. It only takes a moment. The message is short, coldly impersonal. Impossible.
“I don’t understand.” I glance between Berg and Mistress, waiting for one to laugh, to let me share in the joke. I don’t understand what they are saying. Or not saying.
“Read it,” she says.
“No,” I snap, jerking to my feet.
“Sabah,” Berg says, softly, reaching for me. I shy away, glaring, and he lets his hands drop. “We don’t have a choice, Sabah.”
“We always have a choice,” I snarl.
“You’re right, darling,” Mistress says. Her voice so sharp I wonder that I am not bleeding. “But you made yours. You gave the ban-wolves their cure. And in exchange, you go to Mlena.”
“You said we were being given more time,” I protest.
“Yes, well. I’m sorry. This,” she waves at the tablet and its damn message, “is out of my control.”
I’m not ready. I can’t leave the Manor yet. I throw a pleading look at Berg but he ignores me. He’s pale, staring at the floor.
“Sabah, I’m sorry,” Mistress says.
“Are you coming with us?” I ask, my voice choked. I know the answer—she can’t. But the small child in me wants desperately for her to. I glance at the message again, the one damning word: quarantine.
Plague is uncommon—one sweeps through the land every few decades or so. Most come from the roving tribes, and enter the Cities with them. Almost a century ago, a tribe managed to infect an entire City, killing more than half the population. Since then, the Commission has been rigorous in enforcing quarantines.
The Mistress shakes her head. “I can’t, Sabah. They won’t let me. But your sponsor will be waiting, when you get there.”
“How long do I have?” I’m already thinking, my mind racing. I can still say goodbye. I have to say goodbye.
“None,” Berg whispers. “We have to go now.”
I flinch, tears burning in my eyes. I want desperately to give in to them. I want one more time, sitting under my pine, pretending that Arjun will appear from the blackness around me. I want—so many things, so much that I will never have. But there is one thing that I won’t leave behind.
“I have to get my shoes,” I say, faintly. Berg nods.
“Meet us downstairs,” Mistress orders.
In my room, I slip the note from under my pillow. It’s dangerous to smuggle anything into the City. I know that, but I also know I have no choice. I can’t leave this here. I tuck it into the strap of my tunic, and pray I will not be searched.
I shove my feet into the first pair of shoes I can find, and stand, looking around at the room I grew up in. It hurts to leave it. Especially with no goodbye.
But I will come back. Closing the City does not mean it will be closed forever—I will come back to the Manor. The thought is reassuring, even if the reassurance is minute.
Berg is waiting, the Mistress talking to him in a low, intent voice. There is a bag—from the square bulky shape of it, I would say it is filled with books.
Gwen is staring at the Keepers who fill the doorway of the kitchen. Their leader is tall, imposing, his face a patchwork of mismatched skin, sitting in a strange hoverchair. There is a gleam in his eyes that makes me nervous and I inch closer to Berg.
“Are you ready, then?” he asks, his eyes tracking my movements. Berg glances at me and I nod.
“Remember, trust your sponsor. He is there to help you. I will come see you as soon as the quarantine is lifted.” Mistress’ voice is bright, false. Gwen pales at the word quarantine, and I hope that she is a good enough medic to face the coming threat.
I hope the threat is just the imagination of an overly cautious Commission.
“There’s a plague,” I say quickly, staring at Gwen. “It’s coming from the west. Keep the children safe.”
The Keeper motions, and one of his soldiers shoves me against the wall, a hand at my throat, bruisingly hard. “That is classified information, girl.”
I wheeze, blinking spots from my eyes. Berg is shouting, the Mistress’ cool voice is furious. But Gwen steps forward, a thin scalpel clutched in her hand. She swings wildly, and blood wells on the Keeper’s hands, spraying my face. I clench my eyes as the man howls and drops me.
“Silence.”
It’s the Captain, and the entire room goes still and quiet at the leashed menace in his voice. I blink, rub blood from my eyes. He’s watching Gwen, who looks shaky but resolute. “You could hang for attacking a Keeper,” the scarred captain says conversationally.
“He would have killed her,” Gwen spits, unrepentant. “I’ve taken care of every fever, cut and bruise on her body for ten years.”
“Rogers, Clemms. Teach the med-tech her place.” The captain says, bored.
The two soldiers step forward, and I open my mouth to protest. I scramble toward her, and Berg catches me, pulling me to him. The captain’s dark eyes flick to me. “Get on board. Now.”
“Go to hell,” I snarl.
Berg clamps a hand over my mouth, dragging me with him. “I’m sorry, sir. She’s going.”
The door swings shut as one of the Keepers lifts Gwen and the other begins punching her.
**
I am not sure how things move this fast. It seems like only minutes ago that I sat on my bed, thinking. And now, we’re sitting still. In the back of a hovertransport. Going to Mlena and a life I do not want. I can’t help but think about Gwen, about the sick sound of the Keeper’s fist colliding with her stomach.
“What will happen when we reach the City?” I ask Berg.
“I don’t know,” he admits, and some small part of me is pleased by this. He leans forward, to get the Keeper’s attention. “Are we the last Citizens to enter the City?”
“A few Keepers are still being recalled—but yes.” He glances at us, disgust filling his eyes. “And if your sponsor wasn’t so influential, you’d be Outside throughout the quarantine.”
Berg sits back, and I lean over to whisper in his ear. “Will you hold something for me, without questions?”
He looks at me, startled, but nods immediately. It surprises me, but I don’t question my good fortune—I slip the note out of my tunic and into his bag, deep within the old books that no one will think to search.
His lips brush my ear as he asks, “When was the last plague?”
The word alone is enough to make me feel nauseous. Years. Since before we came to the Manor. I shake my head, and try not to think about the casualties of the last plague—and the family I have just deserted.
Now that we are on our way, I am curiously calm. Almost detached. I know that by now, Kaida and the others are learning about our rapid departure. I wonder if Mistress will tell them why—what prompted it. It doesn’t matter, if she doesn’t.
Gwen will.
If she’s still alive
I lean my head against Berg and close my eyes, letting my mind go blank. For a while, there is no noise but the hum of the engines, and Berg’s breathing, and the soft clatter of equipment when the Keeper moves.
Berg’s arm is around me, supporting me. His head leans against mine. I feel guilty, for finding his embrace so comfortable. Almost as if I am betraying Arjun. But there is nothing sexual, nothing romantic, about the gesture. In this moment, we are reduced to the single strongest element of our relationship: friendship, bound by trust and need.
The hovertransport slows, the engines shifting. Berg moves next to me at the same time the Keeper twists to look back at us.
“We’ll need your creds,” he says briskly.
Berg has them, tucked into an inside pocket of his bag. I watch as he hands them over. The Keeper turns away, talking to so
meone through a comm.
Then I feel a slight electric pulse, the hum of energy flowing off the Gate. I shudder at the full body sensation—it’s weaker, inside a hover, than it would be if I were going through it on foot. I still hate it.
The Keeper is up and moving almost before the feeling has faded. The hovertransport gives a rumble as it settles on the landing pad, and I look at Berg.
He smiles, a mischievous grin that tells me more clearly than words, whatever is out there, we’ll face it together.
“Get moving,” the Keeper growls from the door, and I glare at him. He seems taken aback by my animosity—or maybe my lack of fear.
When you have lived among the pack for over a month, aggressive Keepers are hardly worth the time it takes to consider them.
I do not know what I expect, when I step out of the hovertransport. I haven’t been to Mlena often. In the past, it has always been busy—a flurry of intent Citizens going about their daily lives. Brightly dressed, absorbed in their routine, scurrying about like brilliantly colored insects in a self-contained hive.
But it was all benign. Safe. The Keepers who patrolled the City did so in pairs, all but unarmed. There was nothing to protect the Citizens from, within the City. If nothing else, the Commission could boast that their Cities were safe.
But this is different—the streets are brilliantly lit, too bright for the hour. And they are disturbingly empty.
A squad of Keepers jogs by, guns rattling against protective armor.
One Citizen is waiting in the brightness, in somber black. His gray eyes brighten when he sees us, and I stop, so suddenly Berg jerks at my arm before he realizes I’m not following him.
“What are you doing here?” I demand.
Wrenfel Lark smiles a familiar, benevolent smile that sets my teeth on edge. I look at Berg. He looks just as confused as I am. But he shifts his bag of books, and extends a hand. "You must be our sponsor."
"Her sponsor, old boy," Wrenfel says, pointing at me. He gives me a smile that should be charming. It makes me bare my teeth in response—nothing that could ever be construed as a smile, but it seems to please Wrenfel. "I want the girl. You’re just Kathleen's added baggage." I shiver, taking an involuntary step back. Something is not right, in those words.
Edge of the Falls (After the Fall) Page 20
