by Adam Burch
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, organizations, places, events, and incidents are either products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.
Text copyright © 2017 by Adam Burch
All rights reserved.
No part of this book may be reproduced, or stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise, without express written permission of the publisher.
Published by 47North, Seattle
www.apub.com
Amazon, the Amazon logo, and 47North are trademarks of Amazon.com, Inc., or its affiliates.
ISBN-13: 9781477805350
ISBN-10: 1477805354
Cover design by Adam Hall
This book is for my family—my mother and father, Ben and Marcy, and my sister, Lindsay.
CONTENTS
MOVEMENT I: EFFLORESCENCE ÉTUDE
CHAPTER 1 FIRST LYRIC
CHAPTER 2 DUET
CHAPTER 3 COUNTERPOINT
CHAPTER 4 CONTINUO
CHAPTER 5 MAGIA
CHAPTER 6 ACCOMPAGNO
CHAPTER 7 MAESTRO
CHAPTER 8 MOLTO ALLEGRO
CHAPTER 9 BANDA
CHAPTER 10 BANDA CONTINUO
CHAPTER 11 PRIMA DONNA
CHAPTER 12 DISSONANCE
CHAPTER 13 ARIA
CHAPTER 14 TRIO
CHAPTER 15 ELEGY
MOVEMENT II: INTERMEZZO
CHAPTER 16 TREMOLO
CHAPTER 17 SOLO
CHAPTER 18 CRESCENDO
CHAPTER 19 CABALETTA
CHAPTER 20 TOCCATA
CHAPTER 21 ARIOSO
CHAPTER 22 NOCTURNE
CHAPTER 23 CADENZA
CHAPTER 24 CABALETTA SEGUNDA
MOVEMENT III: FINALE
CHAPTER 25 CODA
CHAPTER 26 CANZONETTA
CHAPTER 27 SOTTO VOCE
CHAPTER 28 ORACION
CHAPTER 29 ARISTEIA
CHAPTER 30 ENCORE
CHAPTER 31 DENOUEMENT
EPILOGUE SUSTAIN
ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
MOVEMENT I: EFFLORESCENCE ÉTUDE
CHAPTER 1
FIRST LYRIC
My father strides into the island manse the day I am born. The same day, the heavens burst in the skies above us. The whole planet is abuzz with the news—the Fracture Point has exploded in space and opened a new pathway for our planet. But the islanders don’t realize that. They see only fire in the sky. They still hold on to their ancient beliefs.
“It’s an omen,” they say.
My father pulls me from my mother’s arms in spite of her cries. Protestations of an island woman mean little to the great Edric Leontes. He bolts from the birthing chamber to the balcony. He holds me aloft to the brightness of the star of Tao, making certain all the strategically placed camglobes hovering around us capture the moment in pristine high-definition aquagraphic. Then he proclaims to the sea, the sky, and all the ancestors old and newly ascended, “This is Edmon, the son of Leontes. Let all behold and claim, ‘The son is greater than the father!’ He is a leviathan!”
My father knows how to exploit an event for personal gain. He makes this ordinary moment, the birth of an unremarkable child, history. On this day, on the Isle of Bone, on the Dayside of the distant planet Tao, my birthday is written in the ledger of our people’s history. It is the nineteenth day of Wu Chen, 8227 by Tao Reckoning, 1234 Post Fractural Collapse. Augurs deem the date auspicious to please him, and the exploding Fracture Point only confirms their announcement. My father—Edric, Patriarch of House Leontes, Nightsider, and a giant of a man seemingly carved from granite—is a king in all but name. His shoulder-length flaxen hair whips in the wind as he makes his proclamation over his firstborn son.
It is the last time he makes predictions regarding my destiny.
You see, I am not a leviathan.
I am nine when my mother and I are summoned by the emperor himself. It is the day after the Combat, the yearly killing games on Tao, an occasion for great celebration. I’m washed and polished, my dark hair slicked back and pulled into a thong. My mother has adorned us both in the finest linens of Bone.
“The island people were here before the Great Song,” she tells me. “We go back to the time of the Elder Stars. Never forget that, Edmon.” She hugs me tightly.
I don’t understand all of what she says, but it makes me feel proud to be who I am.
To me, she looks stunning, her mocha skin smooth and luminous against the cream of the linen. Her hair is pinned up high with inky tresses cascading down her back. She looks like a queen, even though she isn’t one . . .
“Cleopatra was born a commoner on Bone,” Gorham, the old musician and village elder, told me one night a few months earlier. “She was the daughter of a fisherman,” he whispered in my ear as the guests entered for the Eventide feast. “But she was the most beautiful girl on our island. Still is.”
Bone is one of the many small islands that dot the surface of the green seas of Tao’s Dayside like freckles. Here, amid white beaches and limestone cliffs, the sun never sets. Eventide sees the streets empty as islanders escape from the sweltering heat. Almost the whole island comes together at our house atop the summit. The shades are pulled low to simulate the setting sun of Ancient Earth. Family and friends gather in a circle with drums and flutes, strings and voices. Everyone plays. Everyone sings. Even the shy ones are part of the dance.
“Beauty on Tao is always revered, always given power,” Gorham continued.
My mother finished greeting the guests, raised her hands, and signaled for the drums to beat.
“Cleopatra’s mother, your grandmother, was an important voice in the Eventide song, and so your mother, too, was given a voice at council meetings.”
My mother entered the circle of guests to dance. She twirled her body in rapture, and I saw in that moment the girl she must have been before I was born.
“Then Edric Leontes came. He was deeded this island by the High Synod when he won his second Combat.” The old man’s voice turned sour. “The Nightsiders pretend our land is theirs to give. He was smitten with her beauty and some say her arrogance.”
Fire alit in my mother’s gaze, and there came something primal and aggressive in her movements as the drums beat.
“Their love wasn’t the kind that lasts forever, Edmon, only the kind that survives until they tamed each other.” He nodded. “He built this manse for her and for you.”
I did not know how to react to these words then. I didn’t remember meeting my father when I was born, but I listened to the punctuated shot of the drums and watched how my mother held the final pose of her dance, balanced on the tips of her toes. Not a single person in the room took a breath. Then she fell back to earth, releasing the moment. The crowd cheered, and so did I, filled with pride.
My thoughts return to our meeting with the emperor . . . and my father. What will he be like? Will he be proud of me when he sees me?
My mother is like a sea siren, fierce and strong, readying herself for a contest. “We’re to look our best,” she snaps. I feel her tension. This is an important occasion, but it’s more than that. There is danger in this meeting.
We make our way down narrow, winding stairs. They lead from our manse atop the high limestone cliffs through a sleepy town of white adobe dwellings with azure-tiled roofs. We take this path daily to the white beaches, where I collect shells and we bathe in the great Mother Ocean.
On this day, however, a giant mechanical monstrosity awaits us at the docks. Its shiny black carapace hovers over the sea. A sonic engine hu
ms, raising the thing on a cushion of sound. Spindly, articulated claws reach into the cerulean island sky. They will hold the massive metallic balloon when it inflates to carry us toward Meridian, the capital city of Tao.
“A sondi.” I whisper the name for the sonic dirigible. I’ve seen them in the aquagraphic storybooks but never in person. It looks like a dead sand beetle lying on its back. Suddenly, I’m filled with dread.
“Your father thinks this is a great honor that Old Wusong affords him.” My mother’s voice is caustic. “But we’ll not be brushed aside. You’re Edric’s first son. You’re his heir. He wants you strong? Show him strength.”
Be strong . . . does that mean do what I’m told or speak my mind? I wonder.
A boarding ramp extends from the carriage to the docks. A thick, muscular man in a navy-blue, military-cut uniform lumbers down. He is grizzled and scarred. His massive, hairy left arm ends in a puckered stump where a hand should be. The sight of it makes me gasp with sudden shock. His lips curl in disgust as he takes in our appearance.
Is there something wrong with the way we are dressed?
“Lady Cleopatra.” He nods. “I’m to escort you to the imperial palace.” He gestures for us to board the sondi.
“Alberich,” she says curtly. “Just like Edric to send his pet fish to do his bidding.”
He bristles at the insult but steps aside as my mother strides past him up the ramp, her gaze tilted proudly upward. I follow, eyeing the man suspiciously.
We sail over the Northern Sea. The horn of the sondi blares, and the carriage shakes. I peer out the porthole to look at the island receding from view. From the air, it looks like a sharp, white sliver against the blue-green of the ocean. Maybe that’s how she got her name—the Isle of Bone.
My mother squeezes my hand. I’m scared. I don’t want to say a word out of turn or give the emperor cause to throw me to the fires of the Pavaka. Every year following the Combat, children with birth defects are incinerated in large burning cauldrons.
“This is how the Nightsiders of Tao keep their race strong and pure,” the droning voice of the aquagraphic instructional had relayed.
I didn’t believe it to be true, but my mother confirmed that the practice was real. “Barbarian Nightsiders! Islanders do not murder their young because they are imperfect. We embrace our differences.” She held me close, wiping the tears of terror from my cheeks. “You are the scion of a noble house of the Pantheon, the firstborn son of Edric Leontes, the leviathan. No one would dare discard you.”
I felt the comfort of her breast against my face, but I couldn’t shake the feeling that she was not telling me the entire truth. I am different. I feel this way now as I watch through the porthole the sky turn from a deep cerulean to a pale violet as we sail across the latitudes.
“Tidal lock,” the gruff man, Alberich, grunts. “The light never sets on the Dayside, Lord Edmon, due to an asteroidal impact early in the star system’s formation—”
“I know,” I respond smugly to my father’s seneschal. It’s a big word that means he is in service to House Leontes but is something more than just a servant. “The force of the asteroid disrupted the planet’s rotation on its axis. It’s why the Dayside always faces the star and why the Nightside is always dark.”
“I see you have not kept the boy completely ignorant, Cleopatra. Will it be enough when the emperor questions him?”
The emperor . . .
I suck in my breath, and my mother grips my hand more tightly.
“Approaching Meridian,” the pilot’s voice cuts in over the loudspeaker.
Alberich unstraps from the harness and stands. “Come,” he says as he strides toward the cockpit.
My mother and I follow. I stand on tiptoes behind the pilot’s chair straining to get a peek. Meridian—the capital city, Tao’s only city, the first city I’ve ever seen. Monolithic skyscrapers of metal and glass rise from the earth like black claws, silhouetted against purple. Fireglobes blink in an array of colors, and aquagraphic screens display advertisements and images of fighters in the arena. Screamers howl as riders sail on their sound engines skirting the tight corners of the angular buildings. I’ve never seen land like this before. It stretches to the horizon as far as I can see.
“The Nightside of Tao is landlocked,” Alberich offers. “Our ice and dirt is as much as your ocean.”
My eyes go wide at the implications. The massive buildings are everywhere. Even my mother, who has been to the capital once before, seems impressed.
So many people! I think.
“The Dayside is always light. The Nightside is always dark. The Twilight Band is where the light and the dark blend. Meridian is the megalopolis that spans the vertical equator of the globe. Here there is just enough light for the strongest civilization humanity has ever known to flourish.”
“The most arrogant and self-righteous humanity has ever known, you mean, seneschal,” my mother says derisively.
The sondi arcs over wharves and harbors as the Northern Sea meets the land. Just as the Twilight Band is the habitat of the Nightsiders, the Eastern, Western, Southern, and Northern Seas are really one great Mother Ocean, where the many islands of Tao sustain the small population of Daysiders. The water is divided merely by name according to which way to sail toward Meridian.
I point to several large conical pyramids on the horizon. “Those are farms, aren’t they?”
Alberich nods. “Very good. Ninety percent of the planet’s food is grown hydroponically in such farms.”
“The surfaces of pyramids are solar collectors,” I recite from a lesson. “I read in the aquagraphics that they open?” No sooner do I ask it than the cones swivel and blossom like flowers, panels splayed to the sky.
“There is just enough solar energy in the Twilight Band for their collectors to harness the star of Tao,” Alberich says.
“What are those?” I point below. The cityscape is pitted with giant metallic shafts, dug into the earth’s crust. Lights blink from their gaping maws.
“Arcologies.” He nods at the giant pits. “Communities drilled into the earth, housing tens of thousands.”
“The underclass.” My mother’s voice is calm, almost sad. “That’s where your father was born and bred.”
Alberich tenses at my mother’s words. I’m confused by them as well. I always understood my father to be a noble. “Isn’t Edric the Patriarch of House Leontes, the newest noble house in the Pantheon?” I ask.
“Yes, because he won the Combat. Twice,” she affirms. “It’s a feat that lifted him from ignominy, made him more beloved than any man since the Great Song. It raised him even higher than Alberich, who was once the scion of a noble house himself. Isn’t that right, Alberich?”
The stocky man scratches at his bristly iron beard. “You know the history, my lady.”
“I know you called for mercy and chose servitude instead of imprisonment or an honorable death.” The big man remains silent. “Edmon, the reason your father is the most admired man on Tao is because of how far he had to climb. It’s why I admired him, too. He was born a commoner, like those of us from Bone. Never forget where you come from,” my mother whispers to me, “even if your own father forgets where he does. That is where Lord Leontes lives now.”
She points to two large glittering scrapers of glass and steel. They stand like monoliths surveying lesser troops of an army. A neon sign flares in my retinas—Wusong Palatial Towers. The imperial sigil of the sea monkey flashes across the enormous aquagraphic screen that runs between the two.
A giant tube snakes around the base of the buildings and continues through the city. Tributary tunnels radiate from the main tube. I can hear the supersonic whoosh of a train as it exits one tube and enters another.
“A train?” I point.
“The Banshee Rail,” Alberich corrects.
“Do we get to ride?” I ask.
“The name Leontes is noble now.” He shakes his head. “Nobles live in the towers and ride the s
kies in screamers or sondis. Plebeians dwell on the city surface and travel rail—”
“And the underclass live in the arcologies,” I say. I’m starting to understand.
The sondi swoops lower, and an entire section of the palatial towers hinges open, revealing a docking bay. The sondi balloon deflates and floats in, and the carriage gently touches down on the dock. Alberich leads us down the boarding ramp.
“The other scions will arrive shortly,” he says.
My mother nods. She holds her chin high as another sondi enters the bay.
“Mother,” I whisper, “what are other scions?”
This next sondi is much larger and more ornately painted than the one we traveled in. The carriage’s silver hull shines like some sort of bullet shark of the deep. The ramp lowers, and a pair of uniformed guards exit. They take up positions at the bottom of the ramp. A man wearing a frilly kimono follows and plants himself between them. His hair has outrageous curls above a puckered face with lips too large. “The concubine Lady Zabeth Tandor of the Tao-Trans Corporation and her daughter, Lady Lavinia Leontes,” he announces with a flourish.
Lady Lavinia Leontes?
The delicate and porcelain-skinned Lady Tandor daintily steps to the bottom of the ramp, adorned in a lacy, lavender gown. A small girl in identical dress stands at her side. She has her mother’s pale, flawless skin and eyes the most entrancing shade of violet I’ve ever seen. Her hair is raven dark, which is highly unusual for the uniformly blond-haired Nightsiders. The color is even deeper than that of the islanders, but her skin has never touched the sun of the Dayside—I’d bet my life on it. She would be beautiful but for the extreme sense of superiority that rolls off her in waves. She curtsies alongside her mother.
Everyone is dressed so ornately. Our island linens stick out like tillyfish in a pack of makos.
Humiliation sends blood to my cheeks.
Alberich bows, and Lady Tandor extends her hand. The grizzled man kisses it. She pulls it away as if she would rather it be touched by a soiled rag. “My lady,” he grunts.
