by Liv Daniels
But what really shocked Leina was the people. There were multitudes. They passed over the layers of sky-bridges above her head like busy ants. Some appeared in windows, obscuring the lights within for a moment, creating a canvas of flickering flames that stretched up the sheer cliff-side.
“There are more people here?” said Leina in a stupor.
Cora’s brow creased ever so slightly. “Are you blind?”
Leina chuckled. “No. I’m surprised.”
“They are the Yurukim,” said Cora. “Come.”
They approached a steep stair carved into the cliff. Here the pull of the magnetic rock was so strong that Leina couldn’t hold the magnetic suit against it. At last she let go and it was whipped away from her.
At the top of the stair they came to a rickety wooden ladder. Cora began to climb it without hesitation, but Leina hung back and looked down at the bottom of the pit, already nearly a hundred yards below. The ladder creaked alarmingly as Cora climbed it.
“Aren’t you afraid of climbing that thing in a dress?” Leina called.
“No,” said Cora. “Around here people are climbing as soon as they can walk. Anyway, if you fall you’ll float again, will you not?”
“No, I dropped the thing.” Leina looked up, trying to discern if she could see any hint of natural light above. She couldn’t. “Falling as far as I did really doesn’t do much for one’s liking of heights.”
Cora was already halfway up the ladder, and Leina could only barely hear her soft voice say, “Are you coming?”
Leina grimaced. “Yeah, coming.” With a deep breath, she took hold of the ladder and began her ascent. It magnified her every movement with alarming creaking, but she kept her eyes pointed upward and went on. At last she reached the top and alighted onto a railed wooden platform where Cora was waiting. The platform ran in front of several of the stone facades. Fire-light streamed out from their doorways, all in a row, and the many windows above them.
Cora nodded primly and turned to enter one of the doorways. Leina peeked in cautiously. Inside was a spacious room, with a large round table carved out of stone in the center. Many people, mostly elderly and simply dressed, were gathered around the table. At its head there was a raised place, occupied by an old woman in a white dress with a small ringlet on her head. The people seemed to be deep in a discussion, and took no notice of Cora or Leina.
Amidst the babble of voices, one was suddenly raised that silenced them all. After a moment Leina was aware that it was the old woman at the head of the table speaking. “We are not going back,” she said. “What little news we get from above is enough. Here we are safe. We have no wont. And so here the Yurukim will remain. I have spoken.”
There were some stray grumbles around the table, but the general clamor subsided. Cora took the opportunity to approach the old woman and whisper something in her ear. The woman listened and nodded, and then her eyes strayed up to meet Leina’s.
“You may come in,” the old woman said.
Leina stepped just inside the doorway.
“Thank you, Cora,” said the old woman. Cora nodded and floated out the door like a disturbed dream, without so much as a glance in Leina’s direction. Leina followed her carefully with her eyes until she was out of sight.
“Are you listening to me?” It was the patient voice of the old woman, who had evidently been talking to Leina.
Leina turned and saw that everyone was watching her. “Sorry. It’s been a crazy day.”
“That I gather. You may stay with me until other arrangements can be made. My house is three stories up.”
“That’s very kind of you,” said Leina. She waited for a response, but there was none. The room was silent now.
“You can go,” said the old woman.
Leina nodded and went outside, if outside it could be called. Cora was nowhere in sight, so Leina submitted herself to two more stories of ladders. On the second story up, she was greeted by the welcome sight of a stairway carved into the cliff-face. It was much too thin for comfort and had no railing, but after the rickety ladders it seemed safe enough.
The stairway doubled back on itself several times, but Leina finally reached the top. There was only one doorway here, a large round one with carvings of twisted vines at its edge.
Inside, Leina was greeted by a stone room lit warmly with torchlight and smelling faintly charred. It was sparsely furnished, with only a rudimentary kitchen and a low table on a faded rug in the center, but a certain serenity hung about it. There were two doorways in opposite walls, each of which led to a small, darker room with a cot in the corner.
Leina went into the room on the left, where the cot looked unused, and sat down on it, letting everything sink in.
She had survived. That was incredible enough. Still, she couldn’t help but wonder if Sam had known about the magnets. Had he been trying to save her after all, or was she only alive by coincidence? She wasn’t ready to put it beyond Sam to try to kill her. He would do it in a heartbeat if he felt like he had to.
The Agency.
The thought struck Leina like the sudden tolling of a bell. What good was it that she was alive, and that she knew Edward knew about the Agency, if she never got the chance to warn them?
Chapter 17
Leina woke with a start and jumped out of bed in a panic. Questions sprinted through her head: Where am I? When did I fall asleep? Why am I not still falling?
Gradually the dreams about bottomless pits and falling and ladders to nowhere faded away, and Leina found herself in the same small dark room as last night. She noticed with a kind of sinking in her heart that it was no lighter now than it had been then. What if there was no way out of this deep place?
In the main room, Leina found the old woman from last night sitting cross-legged on the floor next to the table with a stone cup of steaming water before her. A little pile of smoldering coals was strewn on the counter in the corner.
“Ah, you are awake,” she said, with meticulous slowness.
“I don’t remember falling asleep,” said Leina, sitting across the table from her. “I meant to wait for you.”
“Think nothing of it. It was late when I returned.”
“I don’t think I know your name.”
The old woman smiled oddly. “Here they call me the Sage.”
“Oh,” said Leina. “Do you have another name?”
“If I did, I would not be so quick to tell you. Do you have a name besides the Masked One?”
Leina started. “How did you know about that?”
The Sage chuckled. “You are still wearing your mask. Even down here, we get news. Do you have another name?”
Leina removed her mask and set it on the table. “Actually, I’m not in the habit of telling people my name, either.”
“Then we are even. Only I already know your name, and you still don’t know mine.”
“What?”
The Sage did not respond. She only got up from the table and went over to the rough kitchen-counter in the corner. She took up a mortar and pestle and ground something up, then returned with two plates of a lucid whitish paste flecked with black.
“What is it?” Leina asked.
“Insects,” said the Sage, sitting down again. “All we get down here, but very good.”
Leina eyed the substance suspiciously. “Oh.” She sighed. “Look, it’s very kind of you to take me in, but I need to leave as soon as possible. Is there a way out—back up, that is?”
The Sage shook her head and chuckled again. “You are getting ahead of yourself,” she said, her voice slow and pronounced as always.
“No, you don’t understand,” said Leina, half standing up. “Some of my friends are going to be in serious trouble if I don’t warn them.”
“And there is nothing that you can do about it at the moment. Sit down.”
Leina did, reluctantly.
“Good,” said the Sage. “Now you haven’t even told me how you came to fall from the sky.”<
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Leina took a deep breath to calm herself. “Can I trust you?”
“If you find it necessary to ask that question, then the answer is no. You cannot find it in yourself to trust me. Whether or not I am trustworthy is a different question, is it not?”
“I suppose. Are you trustworthy?”
“Would anyone answer no to that question?”
“Alright then,” said Leina. “Forgive me if I don’t tell you all. I don’t want to put anyone in more danger than I already have.”
“You think I would put someone in danger?”
“I don’t know.”
“Go on then.”
Leina drummed her fingers on the table, next to her still-untouched food. “Do you know Dangerman? The dictator around here, or whatever he is?”
The Sage nodded.
“He doesn’t like me. He—or his henchman, rather—was trying to kill me. I was only saved by the magnetic stone down here.”
“Ah,” said the Sage, with slow contemplation. “That is a very short account.”
“There is not much more to say. Now please tell me if there’s a way up. I really must know.”
The Sage took a very long time in answering. Finally, she said, “Maybe. We, the Yurukim, have long since forgotten it.”
“Then I will find it myself.”
“No, you will not. There is a man who comes here sometimes, from above. When the time is right, he will help you.”
Leina sighed in relief. At least someone knew how to get out of here. “When will he come?”
“When the time is right, I say. Have patience.”
Leina couldn’t find it in herself to argue. Not now, at least. She changed the subject to one that had been bothering her ever since yesterday. “Who is your ruler here? Do you have a king?”
“No, no. Not a king. Only the Sage and her council.”
“Oh,” said Leina, not quite sure how to respond. “I didn’t realize—”
“Think nothing of it. Why do you ask?”
“Well, if you don’t have a king, then you don’t have… I don’t know, princesses or anything like that?”
“Certainly not. The Yurukim do not believe in nobility. Only wisdom.”
“I see,” said Leina. “And who is the girl who rescued me yesterday?”
“That is Cora,” said the Sage, showing no sign of elaborating.
“Well,” said Leina after a long silence. “If the time is not right for me to leave, what am I supposed to do?”
“I thought you might be interested in our library.”
“Library!” Leina jumped up. “Where is it?”
“Thirteen stories up and across the bridge. But you cannot go until you eat something.”
Leina couldn’t find much to smile about in either of those statements.
Chapter 18
The bridge, as it turned out, was nothing more than a long, thin slab of stone with rope strung along it for a rail. It stretched across the vast dark chasm sixteen stories in the air, and Leina thought it looked ready to crack down the middle should anyone dare to lay their feet on it.
But if anything was worthy of requiring such a tribulation to attain, it was a library. And so now at last Leina found herself gasping in relief at the other side of the bridge, and with the tall columned facade of the library before her.
For all its outward grandeur, the library was not all that impressive on the inside. It consisted of a single scantily lit room with far too few books on the carven stone shelves. But to Leina it was an oasis. She flew over to a shelf, snatched up the first book that caught her eyes, reveled in the scent of the old parchment, and sat down at a table to read.
Leina didn’t intend to ever get up again, but a distraction came along before too long, in the form of Cora. She came in so quietly that Leina didn’t notice her until she had selected a book and seated herself just at the edge of Leina’s field of vision. For a long time they both eyed each other from their peripheral vision while pretending to read. At last Leina got up and went to sit at the table where Cora was.
“Hello,” she said.
“Hello,” Cora replied impassively, not looking up from her book.
“You aren’t a princess, are you?” said Leina.
This time Cora did put down the book, and actually looked Leina in the eye. “Why shouldn’t I be?”
“Because the Sage says that there is no king here, and no princess.”
Cora made a little murmur that sounded like, “The Sage doesn’t know everything.” Then, louder, she said, “I am indisposed to talking right now.” And she took her book, climbed a stair at the back and went into a high doorway at its summit, and that was all. After that, Leina couldn’t concentrate on a book, not even in this newfound treasure trove.
***
Leina did not feel up to crossing the bridge again, so she decided to take a walk on this side of the cliff dwelling. On this level, the buildings were offset into the cliff, so there was a nice solid ledge to walk on in front of them. It didn’t have any railing, but it was wide enough that Leina felt perfectly safe.
Past the library, Leina found a small doorway with a dilapidated sign over it that read, “3rd Expeditionary Force.” Immediately curious, she tried the door and found it unlocked.
Inside was a room cluttered with piles of binoculars, canteens, maps, and every other nameable (or unnamable) implement that might be associated with an expedition. Buried amidst all of this, in the center of the room, was a small desk. The man behind it wore a flashy expedition suit and matching hat.
“Hello,” Leina said.
The small pale man was studying something on the desk and didn’t look up. His eyes darted back and forth like a frightened rabbit’s. “Oh. Yes?” he said absently.
Leina considered what she should say. Finally, haltingly, she said, “I’m interested in employing your—”
Finally, the man looked up. “Hello,” he interrupted, seeing her for the first time.
“Hello,” said Leina. “I’m interested in employing your services.”
“What? Whose services?”
“Um…” Leina paused. “The 3rd Expeditionary Force.”
“Ohhh,” the man said. “Erm, what kind of services?”
“For an expedition. I fell down here and I need to get back up right away.”
The man’s eyes widened considerably. “You fell down here?”
“Yes,” said Leina. “Can you help me?”
The clerk hesitated, his eyes darting back to the surface of the desk. “I’m afraid you don’t understand. The 3rd Expeditionary Force is… more of a nominal organization. A club, if you will. We don’t go on many expeditions.”
“How many is not many?” Leina demanded.
“Well, to be precise… none.”
“Please,” Leina pleaded. “Do you know anyone who can help me? It’s terribly important that I warn the—someone of something before it’s too late. If this is the third Expeditionary Force, there must be first and second ones, too?”
The man shifted his eyes uncomfortably. “No, I’m afraid not.”
“Then why are you the third?”
“Just ‘Expeditionary Force’ sounds rather bland, does it not? A name has got to have more flair than that.”
Leina’s shoulders drooped.
The clerk’s eyes softened. “Look, if you want, you can come to our meeting next Monday evening. Maybe someone there will be able to help you.”
Leina set her jaw. “I’ll be there.”
***
Leina spent the rest of the afternoon walking around the cliff dwellings of the Yurukim. The architecture of the building-facades was endlessly varied and intricate, encompassing soaring columns, intricate carvings, and everything in-between, but it seemed to Leina that the Yurukim were a rudimentary people all in all. She wished that they put as much care into their bridges and ladders as they did their houses. Still, there were some puzzling things about them. If they were so rudi
mentary as they seemed, why did they have books? Where did they get paper underground? And wherever did Cora get that fancy dress? Leina mulled over this as she walked, trying at least for the moment to forget her preoccupation with the Agency. It seemed that there was frustratingly little she could do to help them now.
Finally there was nothing left to do but brave the journey back to the Sage’s house. Once, on the way down the long thirteen stories of ladders, a rung snapped under the weight of Leina’s foot. She panicked, barely keeping her grip on the ladder as she struggled to regain her balance. Once she had, she didn’t move for a long time. She told herself that it was just to let her heart slow down, but she knew that she was afraid. She couldn't keep her hands from trembling every time she had to climb one of these ladders.
The strange thing was that she had never been afraid of heights before. Jumping from a wall was what started her Masked One identity in the first place. When she was young, in the forest, she had been enchanted with the idea of flying. She used to climb clear to the top of the tallest tree that she knew of, and sit perched in the sky watching the still expanse of the World. She had only fallen from a tree once. Near the bottom, a brittle branch broke away and she fell and broke her ankle. But Grandmother had taken care of it, and it had healed, and it had caused no lasting fear that Leina remembered. As soon as it was better, she was back in the trees. Certainly heights had given her momentary fear at times, but never anything lasting. She hadn’t even been really afraid when she was at the brink of this pit, or fissure, or whatever it was. And yet, in a long slow way, something about that painless fall had scarred her in a way that no fall-wound could. The initial wonder of having survived was fading away, and it left behind an uncomfortable sensation—a feeling that the scariest thing in the world wasn’t falling, but falling and then discovering that you could fly.
