by Jodi Meadows
It was as big as the first chamber, and as bright, but it wasn’t the same. A brilliant pit lurked in the middle of the room, its walls white as far down as I could see. I tried not to get too close to the edge; someone — Janan — might rush up behind me and push me. The new weight in my backpack took adjusting to, also.
Murmurs hissed again, rippling like a sheet flaring over a bed. The sound still came from everywhere at once, like the heartbeat and pressure.
I lurched away from the pit as the room twisted. Blurs ran up one side of my vision and down the other, a giant circle of shadows as the ceiling fell to the floor, and the floor rose to the ceiling. The pit climbed the wall like an enormous spider. The room turned upside down. The walls groaned and grumbled as though in pain.
The stone under me stayed put. Probably. It was hard to tell. When everything stopped grinding, I was on my knees, palms pressed against my eyes so hard my cheekbones ached.
The temple’s heartbeat steadied. Light beyond my fingers eased, and when I peeked, the room had turned completely upside down. Hesitantly, I stood and tried to decide between looking up at the hole, or fleeing this room. The archway was still there, and on the floor. For now.
“Here,” the temple whispered. “Newsoul.”
I didn’t move.
Was it talking to me? Was that Janan? I could hardly breathe for all the questions gathering in my throat.
“You know what I am?” I bit my tongue as soon as the words slipped out. I couldn’t trust the temple to tell me the truth. It made me queasy inside, and the whole place was weird and upside down. There was so much emptiness, and the books made no sense. But I needed to know. If this was Janan, maybe he could finally tell me what had happened to Ciana. “Why was I born?”
“Mistake.” The word dripped through the stones like sweat. “You are a mistake of no consequence.”
The absence of temperature hadn’t changed, but I shuddered and hugged myself. I’d always known I was a mistake. Always been told I didn’t matter…
“Ana?” Not Janan. This second, higher voice belonged to a real human.
I spun on my heel to find a boy standing in the black archway. Short brown hair, thin cheeks, and eyes that held millennia of experience. He only appeared as if he was fifteen years old.
“Meuric.”
Chapter 27
Speaker
THE COUNCIL’S SPEAKER stood in the doorway, frowning. “What are you doing here?” He stalked toward me.
I backed away.
“Not too close.” His gaze flicked upward, at the reverse pit. “Don’t want to fall in.”
Right. Because the stairs that went down actually went up, and the hole that went up might actually go down. I planted my feet on the ground and glared at him. “What are you doing here?” My heart thudded against my ribs so hard I waited for bones to break. “What’s going on outside?”
“I saw you run in here. I came to help.”
That was unlikely. I’d been here at least an hour. Unless time ran differently in the temple.
He continued to creep closer, cautious like I was a wild animal. I felt like one; my legs itched to carry me away, but I stayed and fought the adrenaline flooding my system. He shook his head, kept his voice soft and even. “It’s chaos out there. Dragons and sylph. They arrived shortly after you vanished.”
Dragons and sylph? My hands tingled with memory.
“It’s never happened before, both together.” He stopped directly in front of me, his gaze never leaving mine. “Do you know anything about that?”
How far could I back up before I fell? I couldn’t tell.
“Ana.” He spoke gently, like that would change anything. The temple still had a heartbeat. The air still smothered sound. Everything we said was flat, barely audible. The only thing that echoed was Janan — maybe Janan. “You should be at home with Li. You’d be safe there. Dragon acid can’t hurt the walls.”
So I’d seen during the market attack. Janan’s doing?
“What about the sylph?” I scratched at the backs of my hands. The burns had itched like mad when they were healing, and Sam always threatened to bind my hands forever if I didn’t stop trying to ease the sensation of something crawling beneath my flesh.
“Sylph…” Meuric’s eyes lifted to the pit again. “They can’t go through the stone.”
That didn’t mean they couldn’t use doors or windows. Li’s house was no safer than the market field when it came to sylph.
“Why aren’t you at home?” he asked again.
I edged toward the wall to keep from being trapped between him and the hole. My voice shook. “I heard the dragon thunder and I ran.” Sort of true. “I lost track of where I was going. I was so scared. Then a door appeared and I darted inside, but I’ve never seen this part of the Councilhouse.”
His expression flickered as though he was reevaluating me. Hopefully he’d decided I was an idiot.
When I had a clear view of both Speaker and pit, I stopped edging and lowered my voice. “Are we in the temple?”
He narrowed his eyes — I’d probably been too dramatic — but gave a curt nod. “Yes, that’s what your door led to.”
“I thought there was no way in.” I glanced at the pit. He might underestimate me if he knew how afraid I was. Still, it was humiliating to be caught when I felt so panicked. “Why is everything backward?”
“I don’t know.”
This room made my skin crawl, but I couldn’t figure out which way to go. Other archways appeared and disappeared in the corners of my vision. Any of them might lead to freedom, but more than likely they would take me somewhere worse. “Before you got here, I heard a voice.” I pressed my hands over my heart. “Was that Janan?”
Meuric’s mouth pinched. “Yes.”
I kept my eyes on him, trying to search the rest of the room with my peripheral vision. There was nothing, save the pit and occasional dark archway. “He said I was a mistake. Do you think he meant I wasn’t supposed to be born?”
The Speaker said nothing.
“I know about Ciana. I heard Frase tell Li that she never came back. Half of Heart believes I replaced her. That’s why they hate me.”
Meuric winced. “I’m sorry, Ana. I wish I could answer your questions. I just don’t know. I was as mystified as everyone else when you were born. All I can tell you is that the words on the outside of the temple are true: Janan gave us life. All our lives. Maybe something went wrong when Ciana didn’t come back, but Dossam believes you’re a gift. Surely you can take heart in that.”
Sam. I tried not to think about Sam out there with the dragons and sylph. Better to keep asking questions, no matter how much I wanted to remind Meuric that he was the one who’d taken me from Sam. Take heart in that indeed. “But Janan gave everyone life, and he said I’m a mistake. How can he make mistakes?”
His expression was dark as thunderclouds. No idea what he’d do if I kept pushing, if he could do anything, but I’d have bet Sam’s piano that Meuric knew more about the temple than he was letting on. I just had to find the right questions.
“What are you looking for?” he asked. “To be told you’re a mistake? Would it make a difference if I tell you that you’re not? You already know I believe in Janan, and this is his temple. He is the temple. He doesn’t speak often, but he never lies. If he said you’re a mistake, then you are. I don’t know where you came from, but I know Janan had nothing to do with you. Your answers aren’t in here.”
The words landed like fists. I could only nod. It certainly wasn’t the answer I wanted, but I’d learned long ago I didn’t need to worry anyone would lie just to keep my feelings from getting hurt.
Really, I just wanted to know what had happened. I couldn’t change what I was or wasn’t. I lowered my gaze. “Do you know the way out? I want to find Sam.”
“Yes, we can do that.” His hand brushed his coat pocket, so quickly I wasn’t supposed to see. I feigned interest in my sleeves, in the dark cloth o
ver white skin. “Come with me.”
Too easy. And at some point, he’d given up pretending he knew nothing about the temple. That could only mean that he wanted to lead me somewhere I didn’t want to go.
“Okay.” I straightened my clothes and hitched my backpack, heavy with the books I’d stolen. “Yeah, I’d rather not stay here any longer. You can’t see anything, and nothing is what it looks like.” I strode toward him, stopping just out of arm’s reach. I kept him between the upside-down pit and me.
“Unsettling, isn’t it?”
I hesitated, desperately wishing I was as brave as Sam claimed.
Before I could act, Meuric noticed something about me — maybe posture or accelerated breathing — and said, “It will be easier if you behave.”
“What will?”
“Getting lost in here. You won’t get hungry or thirsty. You’ll never get tired. Janan doesn’t want you, and I won’t kill you, but you cause too many problems in Heart. You ask too many questions. I’d hoped you’d grow out of all that if I gave you back to Li. This wasn’t what I wanted for you.”
“Sam won’t let you—”
“Sam will assume you died. Lots of bodies are never found when dragons or sylph attack. He’ll be sad, but he’ll get over it. Unless he dies, too. And even then it’s unlikely he’d be reborn before Soul Night.”
“What happens then?” Soul Night wasn’t until the spring equinox in the Year of Souls, more than a year away.
He showed teeth when he smiled. “Nothing you need to worry about.”
I didn’t move.
“Birth is never pretty, Ana. It’s painful. Trust me, you will be happier in here.” He gestured around the chamber as though it was the grand concert hall in the Councilhouse; I saw only cold, unforgiving white. “And you’ll live forever. Isn’t that what you want?
“I want to go home. I want people to stop telling me what to do, insisting progress reports are the most important thing in my life, and assuming I have some nefarious plan for newsouls to replace everyone. I don’t. For some reason, I’ve been given a chance at life, and I want to make the most of it.”
Meuric just shook his head. “You honestly don’t know the trouble you have caused.” He stepped closer, his eyes on mine. We were exactly the same height, so neither of us had to look up or down. He still seemed so much bigger than me. “I understand,” he said. “You’re young. Your world revolves around you. Or, like your father, you are simply incapable of considering others. He was always asking questions, too, trying to figure out why people are reincarnated.”
“There’s no crime in curiosity.”
“Your questions make my life difficult.”
“Fortunately, as you said, I’m self-centered enough that I don’t care.” I checked the pit but couldn’t judge the distance; the everywhere-light made depth perception impossible. “I’ve decided not to go with you. I’ll find my own way out.”
“Then you’ll never leave.”
No, I had a pretty good idea of what I needed. Or, at least, where to find it. I tackled Meuric, the weight of my backpack making that more awkward than it needed to be.
He was young and fast enough that he could have darted away, but maybe he’d forgotten. Changing bodies must get confusing. Instead, he dropped to the floor and dragged me with him, his nails gouging my arm through my sleeve. “What are you doing?” He stood and hauled me up; he was strong for his size.
I dove for his pocket and whatever was in there.
With a grunt, he grabbed my shoulders to fling me across the room, but I caught the cloth of his pocket — not its contents — and he fell with me. I elbowed him, trying to find some kind of advantage, but he was stronger and his elbows were pointier.
We wrestled, both of us trying to get his pocket and keep away from the upside-down pit. When we came close to it, he shoved me, but I threw myself aside just before I stumbled beneath the opening.
My shoulder jammed against the floor, shooting pain all down my arm. My foot, which had landed under the pit, hung upward as though gravity had reversed. I pulled it down — it was as heavy as if I were lifting it out of the pit — and scrambled away as Meuric attacked.
He hit my sore shoulder, which sent waves of numbness to my fingers. With my free hand, I drew Sam’s knife and thrust it, not caring where it hit, as long as it hit somewhere.
Flesh squished and popped.
Blood squirted and dribbled from his eye.
His expression flickered to shock, then to a dull nothing as I withdrew my knife and gagged at the metallic odor of blood and salt. I avoided looking at his youthful face as I found a thin, SED-size device in his pocket. It was made of silver. His other pockets were empty, so this had to be what would get me out of here.
Meuric groaned and clutched at his ruined eye. I couldn’t imagine how he was still alive, but the knife wasn’t long; perhaps I hadn’t gone deep enough to puncture his brain. Acid boiling in my stomach, I wiped my blade clean on his coat, then kicked him underneath the pit. It sucked him upward as quickly as though he’d fallen.
My head spun, and I needed to throw up.
I’d killed him.
When he was reborn, he’d spend his life trying to kill me. He might even tell the Council what I’d done. I could show them what I’d found in his pocket, tell them what had happened before he returned, but it was unlikely they’d believe me. I was the nosoul.
Jammed shoulder aching, I hauled myself into a sitting position and studied the device. It gleamed silver in the everywhere-light, and had five pictures engraved in the metal. They were a horizontal line, a vertical line, a square, a circle, and a diamond. None of them looked like a door, and I couldn’t tell if touching one would activate anything or not. They weren’t buttons.
For a moment, I feared I’d made a mistake — hadn’t I? I’d killed him — but this was Meuric. He wouldn’t have come in here unprepared. He’d probably been the one to create the door in the first place, just to get me out of the way. There’d been nothing else in his pockets, so everything necessary to activate this device must be here already.
Or not. What if this was tied to only Meuric’s soul, the same way the scanners in the city could detect which soul was which?
“Janan?” I whispered, just in case he was still there and inclined to help. Only the temple heartbeat pulsed in reply.
The last thing I wanted to do was lock myself in here, but wasn’t I already trapped? I had to take a chance and hope I escaped. Then I could raid Meuric’s house for some kind of instructions.
The horizontal line was first; I touched that.
Nothing happened.
Same thing with the vertical line and the square, so perhaps that meant I had to do something else to them. “But what?” Frustrated, I squeezed the device and considered throwing it into the pit.
Something shifted inside the device. With a soft snick, the pictures all rotated and the metal slid into itself, as if one half was hollow.
I had no idea what I’d done, but as soon as I looked up, the wall shimmered and groaned. In the same dizzying way the room had turned upside down, a gray blur appeared on the white stone, expanding into a door-size hole. I couldn’t see anything beyond.
Stay here, or go through the mysterious door? I drew in a shaky breath and found my feet. Before I made it halfway, the edges of the door flickered and whitened.
My entire body hurt, and fire stabbed my shoulder every time I moved my arm, but I sprinted for the door before it closed and I was forced to repeat whatever I’d done to the device.
I stepped throuIcy wind battered my face, and sleet obscured my vision. My first instinct was to run as far from the temple as possible, but — I swayed and pressed my backpack against the now smooth wall where the door had been — I’d emerged on a ledge, high above the ground. If not for the weather, I’d have been able to see everything. I’d never been so grateful for sleet before.
Carefully, I tugged off my backpack. I conside
red letting it go — I had the door device and my knife in my coat — but this had the books from the temple, as well as the charred remains of Sam’s song. If it came to it, I could drop it, but for now, I put the backpack on in front of me. Balancing would be awkward, but I would compensate.
Just as I steadied myself to get my bearings, a dark shape formed in the gray: long and slender, huge black wings.
A dragon.
Chapter 28
Rage
THE TEMPLE THROBBED against my back as I pressed harder against it, trying to become invisible. My door was gone, and too easily, I could recall how Sam had described the dragon acid. I could imagine myself burning and itching, my skin boiling until I saw bone. I didn’t want to die. Not in the temple, or by falling off, or by dragon.
I considered opening another door only for a heartbeat; there was no telling what I’d find inside, or if I could get back to the ground level to create a new door. I couldn’t risk it.
Thinking invisible thoughts, I planted both palms on the warm stone and tried to calm my vertigo and terror. The dragon’s wings spread wide, glittering in the strange templelight.
Right. Warm stone. That would at least keep ice from making me slip, but there was still water. The ledge was only a foot deep, which didn’t leave much room for me to keep my balance.
The dragon’s jaws gaped as it flew nearer, but before it speared me with teeth as long as my forearm, blue light shot from the ground, piercing the roof of its mouth. With a roar, it veered and dove at its attacker. Wind from its wings nearly forced me off the ledge, but I dug my heels in and clenched my jaw, as if that would keep me from tumbling to the market field.
The Councilhouse roof wasn’t far to the left — which meant I faced north, and all the incoming dragons — and that seemed like a safer place to be stranded. It was still at least a one-story drop, and I couldn’t tell if my ledge went that far, but it was better than staying here.
I inched toward the roof. The glow helped when it was right underneath me, but anything beyond arm’s reach was hazy with sleet and numinous light. And even with the warm temple, my face and fingers were numb. My backpack tugged awkwardly on my shoulder, making fire shoot through it. Something was out of place, or maybe broken.
