The Secrets of Solace

by Jaleigh Johnson

  “If Dragonfly wins the war—and I believe, with its strategy and its iron, it can—it won’t matter,” Tolwin said. “In exchange for our support, we can ask that Dragonfly annex the meteor fields to us. We would own the scrap towns and everything in them. Consider it, friends. That’s all I ask,” Tolwin said in a smooth voice. “For the good of our nation, when the war is over, I want to be able to say I supported the winning side.”

  For a moment, silence reigned in the chamber as the council considered Tolwin’s words. Lina held her breath, her heart thumping hard in her chest. She knew what Zara’s reaction to Tolwin’s proposal would be: fury.

  Then, into the silence came a soft creaking sound. She hadn’t noticed it when the council members were talking, but now it grew steadily louder. For one blissful second, Lina thought it was the sound of a door opening in the room below her. Maybe the council members were leaving, or maybe Zara was storming out in a rage to end the meeting.

  Until Lina realized with a dawning horror that the source of the creaking was actually the rusty metal plate she crouched on—bending, bowing under her weight.

  Oh, you have got to be kidding me.

  The rusty plate broke loose. Lina flailed her arms wildly, trying in vain to find a handhold on the sides of the shaft, but there was nothing to grab. She started to fall but at the last second caught the edge of the next plate in front of her, so that she was hanging out the bottom of the shaft by her fingertips. She glanced down as the broken plate crashed to the marble floor in front of the council table. Her legs swung back and forth, and she was already slipping. She knew she wouldn’t be able to pull herself back into the shaft.

  The game was up. With a wince, Lina let go and dropped the six or seven remaining feet to the floor, landing in a crouch next to the traitorous piece of metal, facing the long oak table where the nine council members sat staring at her, eyes wide and mouths in various stages of falling open.

  This is one of those moments. The thought flitted through Lina’s mind as she stood up and plucked a cobweb—and what looked like part of a mouse’s nest—out of her hair. One of those moments when she wished with every fiber of her being that she could melt into the floor and disappear, as if she’d never been born.

  Whatever you do, don’t make it worse by trying to come up with some flimsy excuse for why you were in the ventilation shaft, Lina told herself.

  That’s right. Just keep quiet.

  But when she glimpsed those nine pairs of eyes pinning her to the spot, she couldn’t help herself. “Wow, see now, I suspected that that shaft needed replacement parts,” she blurted out. “I said to myself, ‘Lina, you should go up there and test it to make sure it won’t rot away and fall apart,’ and it’s a good thing I did, because, well, look what just happened. And you know, you would not believe how dirty it is up there, so if you want me to clean things up a bit—”

  She stopped the flood of words when her gaze fell on Councilman Tolwin’s face, which was turning a deeper shade of red than Lina thought she’d ever seen on a person. Even worse than that, though, was the disappointment that shone clearly in Zara’s eyes when Lina turned to look at her teacher. Lina’s stomach churned with guilt.

  This is going to be bad. Bad like the time she’d tried to dig a tunnel underneath the library and made a whole section of the floor collapse.

  And the explosion of anger, when it came, was—unsurprisingly—from Tolwin.

  “Lina Winterbock—I should have known!” he cried, leaping to his feet so quickly that for a moment, Lina thought he might jump across the table at her. He slammed his fist on the tabletop. “This is a closed council session, apprentice!”

  “Are you hurt, Lina?” Zara spoke up, ignoring Tolwin’s tirade.

  Lina shook her head. “I’m fine,” she said, even though it wasn’t true. She’d scraped her shoulders on the rough metal edges when she fell out of the ventilation shaft, and they were already stinging fiercely, but she didn’t think she’d get much sympathy from the council.

  “How did you get in here?” Tolwin demanded. When Lina didn’t immediately reply, he slammed his fist on the table again. “Look at me, girl!”

  “I think it’s fairly obvious how she managed the feat,” Councilman Davort interjected. Lina thought she detected a flicker of amusement in the old man’s voice, but it was gone too quickly for her to be sure. At eighty-two, Davort was the oldest member of the council. He had a thin ridge of white hair at the back of his head, and his hands shook slightly when he reached for the water glass on the table in front of him. “The real question is: why is she here, and who should have been looking after her?” He turned his gaze to Zara as he spoke.

  “I hear you, Davort,” Zara said, accepting the rebuke with a bow of her head. “Lina is my responsibility. I apologize to the council for her intrusion.”

  Lina squared her shoulders. She couldn’t allow Zara to be lectured for something she had done. “Zara didn’t know where I was,” she said, realizing after she spoke that that bit of information wouldn’t help either of them. “I mean, this is my fault. I shouldn’t have eavesdropped. I’m sorry.”

  “Lina, leave the council room now and go to my office,” Zara commanded. “I’ll be along in a few minutes to discuss your punishment.”

  “I object. The council should decide her punishment,” Tolwin snapped. He turned to glare at Lina. “We all know you, Lina Winterbock, and I say you’ve played these tricks too many times. My suggestion to the council is that, effective immediately, Lina Winterbock be stripped of her apprenticeship. That she no longer be allowed access to the archivists’ workshops, and any artifacts she is currently studying be confiscated and redistributed to the other apprentices.”

  Lina swayed on her feet as panic seized her. “No, you can’t!” she cried. This couldn’t be happening. Yes, she shouldn’t have eavesdropped, but she hadn’t done any real harm. They couldn’t just take away her rank, her projects—could they? She thought of her workshop. At least the Merlin would be safe, but the idea of losing everything else made her sick.

  Lost in her misery, Lina jumped when Zara’s hand came to rest on her shoulder. She hadn’t noticed her teacher rise and walk around the table to stand beside her.

  “Due respect, Councilman Tolwin,” Zara said, squeezing Lina’s shoulder, “but this is not a matter worthy of the council’s attention. If you wish to issue a formal reprimand to me as Lina’s teacher, I accept that. But I request that the council allow me to punish my apprentice in the manner I deem appropriate.”

  “Seconded,” said Davort, and two of the other council members nodded. “Stripping her of her apprenticeship is too extreme, Tolwin,” the elder councilman added.

  “And you are too quick to forgive,” Tolwin shot back. He turned to glare at Zara. “For years, we’ve tolerated your letting her run wild through Ortana, but it’s time to put an end to it. The child needs to be assigned a new teacher, one who will supervise her properly and restrict her movements within the stronghold.”

  “No!” Lina felt Zara’s grip tighten on her shoulder to silence her. She couldn’t believe what she was hearing. True, it was better than losing her apprenticeship, but not by much.

  “I agree she must have supervision,” Davort said, ignoring Lina’s outburst, “but with the refugees taking up more of our attention and resources, now is hardly the best time to be reassigning apprentices.”

  “And it is not necessary,” Zara interjected firmly. “I apologize again for Lina’s intrusion, but Councilman Tolwin overestimates the seriousness of the situation.”

  Tolwin gave Zara a calculating look that Lina didn’t like. “Do I? And would my reaction seem so extreme if she had overheard certain information that could jeopardize—”

  “But she did not.” This time, Councilwoman Jasanna stood up, her work apron clinking with tools. “Let this go, Tolwin, before you say something that all of us will regret.”

  For the first time, Lina noticed the strained loo
ks on the faces of the other council members. They were uncomfortable, anxious, but some instinct told her that those feelings weren’t caused by her. Curiosity overcame some of Lina’s misery. What was going on here? What had Tolwin been about to say?

  “I promise you, Lina will be adequately punished for what she did,” Zara said. “Will you allow me this, friends, and call the meeting adjourned? It’s been a long night, and our tempers are already short.”

  “Agreed,” murmured Davort and several of the other council members. Then the elder councilman turned to address Lina directly, his expression grave but not unkind. “You’ve been given a reprieve, child. Use it wisely. If you wish to remain under Councilwoman Zara’s tutelage—and I can tell by your passionate response that you do—you must learn to temper your curiosity. If you can’t do that, you will be reassigned to another teacher.”

  “If that action does become necessary, know that I would be willing to take on the task,” Tolwin offered, “so as not to burden the other archivists with extra duties. And I feel certain that I could correct the child’s behavior.”

  Dread clawed at Lina’s stomach. She hated the tone of smug satisfaction in Tolwin’s voice. And be Tolwin’s apprentice? Spend every day studying with him and Simon breathing down her neck? It was unthinkable. She might as well give up her apprenticeship at that point. She would lose all her freedom.

  Davort stood up and struck the bell in the middle of the table to signal the end of the meeting. One by one, the council members stood and began filing out of the room, until only Lina and Zara were left. Tolwin was the last to storm out, slamming the double doors behind him.

  “I think he’s starting to like me,” Lina said, smiling feebly at Zara.

  “Please tell me you don’t really think any of this is funny,” Zara said, but she sounded more tired than angry, which surprised Lina. She’d been prepared for shouting, but instead, Zara walked to the table and sank into a chair. “I never expected you to do something like this, Lina,” she said, shaking her head. “I know that you love to explore and hide—”

  “I’m not hiding,” Lina interrupted—and immediately regretted it when Zara glared at her. “Right, sorry, I should let you talk,” she said.

  “I thought the reason you did it was to avoid people,” Zara said, “not to eavesdrop on a group of men and women who believe they’re speaking in confidence about matters that impact our entire nation.”

  Lina felt her cheeks flush with shame. Shouting would have been easier to take. “I know I messed up,” she said. “I’m sorry.”

  “So why did you do it?” Zara pressed.

  “When I saw the meeting was off-limits, I thought there’d been some news about the war,” Lina said. “I thought maybe you’d heard something good.”

  Zara shook her head, and for a moment, she seemed distracted. Her face took on a faraway expression. “Nothing like that, I’m afraid. We called the meeting because we’d gotten word from some of Ironstar’s archivists who are traveling in the Merrow Kingdom—and this will be common knowledge soon, but for now, keep it to yourself—that old King Easmon has been ill. We’re not sure how serious it is.”

  A mixture of excitement and trepidation went through Lina. She loved it when Zara confided in her, but she didn’t like the look of worry in her teacher’s eyes. “What does that mean for the war?” she asked.

  “I don’t know, but if there’s going to be any hope of a peaceful end to it, the last thing we need in either kingdom is instability,” Zara said. “The Merrow Kingdom has an impressive military, but King Aron has more money and resources. And Easmon’s ambition has him sending troops far across Solace—maybe too far. I don’t know how his illness will affect his campaign, especially in the west. He’s been very active there lately, and though I truly don’t think he’d attack us, he’s still closer to our borders than I or anyone on the council is comfortable with. And Tolwin, no matter how much I hate to admit it, makes some valid points about the archivists’ position. This won’t be the last late-night meeting,” she added, but it seemed to Lina that she was speaking mostly to herself.

  “Maybe I can help you,” Lina said. If Zara was willing to confide in her, maybe she would consider other changes to their relationship. Like a fresh start. “If you take up my lessons again, eventually I could share some of your workload. You haven’t been able to go any further with your translation of those stone tablet pieces since the war started, have you?” she pointed out.

  It was Zara’s turn to be surprised. “How did you know that?”

  Because I’ve been keeping track of you, hoping that you would see me, have time for me. But Lina was too embarrassed to say it. Instead, she plowed ahead: “If you gave me your notes, I’m sure I could catch the thread of your research and continue the translation. Or if you don’t want to do that, I could help with the refugees, bring messages back and forth quickly from the dormitories. Whatever you need.” She tried not to sound overeager, but she couldn’t help it. This was a chance to make Zara proud of her and maybe erase some of that disappointment from her eyes.

  Zara stood up and came to stand in front of her. Her dark curly hair was shot through with thick gray streaks, more than Lina remembered her having a year ago. The creases around her brown eyes were deeper too. Zara rested her slender hand on Lina’s shoulder again.

  “I believe that you could help, Lina,” her teacher said, smiling sadly, “but with the war and the refugees swelling our population, the council is stretched too thin just trying to keep order. I’m sorry, but I don’t have the time to spare to start teaching you again. You’ll have to keep studying independently and attending all your regular classes. Once the war ends, things will be different.”

  The hope that had begun to build inside Lina vanished, replaced by a hollow ache. And a flash of anger. She knew it was wrong—Zara had just stood up for her in front of the council—but she couldn’t hold it in. “Fine,” she said curtly, “but don’t keep blaming the war.”

  Zara blinked in surprise, but then her eyes narrowed. “Excuse me?”

  “My lessons stopped before the war started,” Lina said. “There’s always something that drags you away.”

  Zara threw up her hands, at last losing patience. “We’ve had this discussion many times. You know that my work with the council must come first. I found you three different teachers, men and women who were willing to be involved with you on a day-to-day basis. Keep you from pulling stunts like this one,” she added sternly, gesturing at the hole in the ventilation shaft.

  Lina shook her head stubbornly. “No.”

  “Exactly,” Zara said, her voice rising. She was inching closer to shouting. “You refused to accept any of them, until they all gave up and sent you back to me. I’ve tried to be patient, but believe me, my girl, that patience is quickly running out. And now you’ve got the council involved!” She sighed and shook her head. “Perhaps they’re right. Maybe it’s time for a new, permanent teacher, whether you want one or not.”

  “So you’ll break your promise, is that it?” Lina clenched her fists at her sides. “Toss me off to Tolwin or whoever else you can find? Mom and Dad wanted you,” she insisted, clearing her throat to hide the tremor in her voice. “They wanted you to teach me—no one else. You made a promise, and you’re breaking it!”

  “Lina…” Zara sighed again, and suddenly she looked exhausted. “That was a long time ago.”

  “No, it wasn’t,” Lina whispered. She tried to swallow the lump that had risen in her throat. It might as well have been yesterday, it still hurt so much. But talking about it never got them anywhere; it just made things worse. “Can I go now, Zara?” She cast a longing glance at the door. “I’m sorry about ruining the meeting. You can tell me my punishment in the morning.”

  For a second, it looked as if Zara was going to argue. Lina braced herself, but then her teacher simply said, “Fine, you can go. We’ll talk tomorrow, but there will be a hefty punishment for this, Lina, I assure
you. Sleeping on it won’t change anything.”

  Lina didn’t like the sound of that. “How hefty?” she asked.

  Zara was unsympathetic. “Let’s just say you won’t have time for any of your own projects for the next several weeks. You’ll have work every day, all day, and I expect to know where you are at all times. You’ll also show up promptly for every meal in the dining hall and be in bed an hour after the evening one.”

  Lina’s shoulders slumped, but she knew there was no getting out of this. So much for stealing away to her workshop to try to knock those boulders loose. Tonight would be her last night of freedom for a long while.

  “Come to my office early tomorrow,” Zara continued, “and go to the medical wing tonight before you go to bed and get those scrapes on your shoulders tended to. I can see that they hurt.”

  Lina nodded, not trusting herself to speak. She was tired, aching, and angry. Casting one last look above her at the sizeable hole she’d made in the ventilation shaft, she turned and crossed the meeting room to the double doors.

  Thankfully, Simon was nowhere in sight when she exited the building. He and Tolwin were probably sitting in Tolwin’s office plotting more ways they could strip her of her apprenticeship. Lina winced at the thought. In that terrifying moment back in the council room, she’d really thought she was going to lose everything.

  The truth was, Tolwin and Simon could despise her all they wanted. Zara’s dismissal was what was harder to take, but Lina forced that sting aside too.

  What were you thinking anyway, offering to help her? Lina chided herself. She didn’t have time to work on Zara’s projects. She had the Merlin, and no one could take that away from her.

  Only tonight would be the last night she could visit it for several weeks. Surely, she had time to sneak down to the workshop just one more time before she went to bed. She’d be exhausted tomorrow, but it was a small price to pay for a few more minutes with the beautiful airship.