by Lisa McMann
Her mind lingered on Dev and their time together. Their relationship had been rocky, but they’d needed each other. They’d annoyed each other, done some rude things to each other, but there was something inherent in Dev that Thisbe had really liked. Then, abruptly, their relationship had ended without notice or fanfare. She’d probably never see him again. Now she’d made a friend who was nice and caring, and he was gone. Or dead. Or something horrible like that.
She was so deep into her thoughts and plans that her journey to the extraction room seemed to go more quickly than usual. She was surprised when she reached the rushing sound of the river. Being nearly half done energized her, and she made the last leg of the journey at top speed. She deposited her bones next to empty stations, picked the two smallest of the ones that had already been worked on and hitched them to her harness, gulped downed a cup of water, and rushed out, nearly knocking someone flat in her haste.
It was the Revinir. Behind her were her soldiers.
“Ah, there you are,” the old woman said, keeping her balance nimbly with the help of the doorway. “I’ve been looking for you.” She narrowed her eyes. “Are you ready to work as my assistant yet? Opportunities abound. Mercenary options, no less.”
“No way,” Thisbe said with contempt, though she didn’t know what mercenary meant. “Not in a million years.”
“Ah well. It’s a pity you’re going to miss out. I’ll have to make do with my newly acquired servant, then, though unfortunately he’s not magically inclined. I would have preferred you.” She hesitated, then leaned forward, her fingernails clicking together. “What sort of magic can you do, exactly?” The Revinir sounded slimy, and it made Thisbe want to avoid her even more.
“Nothing.” Thisbe shrugged, then tried to push past her.
The Revinir put her scaly arm out to stop her. “I know you’re lying. I’ve seen your sparks. Are you the one who killed the pirate captain? I think you are.”
Thisbe said nothing, but her conscience twinged. She’d lied again like it was nothing. That was definitely something an evil person might do.
“Also,” the Revinir went on, “I heard something very troubling about you. Sneaking around the river the other day, were you? Don’t do that again. You’re forbidden. And I’ve instructed my soldiers that if they catch you trying that again, they’re to take any means necessary to stop you.”
Thisbe’s heart sank, but she tried not to let it show. “I won’t. I was only thirsty.”
“You know I don’t believe you.”
Thisbe looked at the woman with contempt. “You don’t have to believe me.” She started forward again, then stopped. “Where’s Rohan?” she demanded, not expecting an answer. “What did you do to him?”
“Oh, he’s busy elsewhere in the catacombs.”
“He’s alive?” Thisbe held her breath and failed miserably at trying to look like she didn’t care.
The Revinir raised an eyebrow. “Hmm. Interesting. My hunch was correct. You seem to care a great deal. I’m glad I separated you two.”
Thisbe scowled but didn’t argue, and she tried more successfully this time not to let her intense feelings of relief be evident. “Did you make him your assistant or something?”
“Rohan? Please. He’s only sixteen percent evil. Not nearly bad enough to work directly for me. Not like you. You’re special.” She laughed, and a puff of gray smoke came out of her nostrils. “I just needed to keep you away from him. I prefer you only be around other children with whom you can’t communicate. That boy is just too educated and good to stay on this side of the catacombs. It means his work is much harder, certainly, but that couldn’t be helped. I’ll tell him you said sorry, since it’s you’re fault he’s been moved—oh wait, no I won’t. I’ll tell him nothing of the sort. Perhaps I’ll tell him you’re dead.” She cackled. “And he’ll believe me, because he’s so good. Oh, it’s fun to play with the good ones.”
Thisbe looked at her in horror, feeling the rage boil up. The Revinir was an awful, horrid person. She glanced at the soldiers, feeling terribly tempted to strike the woman down—did they think she was horrible too? She couldn’t tell. Their faces were blank. It was too risky. Plus, hadn’t the Revinir said that she was somehow indestructible now? That had to be something to do with the dragon-bone magic. But obviously dragons could die somehow, or there wouldn’t be tons of their bones here. And Arabis and the others wouldn’t have been threatened. Thisbe eyed the woman, wondering where to direct the spell once she was ready to do so. Her throat, perhaps. There weren’t any scales there.
“You’re thinking about trying to hurt me, aren’t you?” said the Revinir, searching Thisbe’s face. “I wouldn’t try that if I were you. You won’t succeed. It’ll only get you thrown into the dungeon.”
Thisbe’s heart leaped to her throat, but she narrowed her eyes and tried not to let on. “What dungeon?”
“The one at the palace,” said the Revinir. “I’m told you enjoyed your time there, though, so I’m not terribly keen on sending you back.”
Thisbe was so angry she could hardly breathe. She lifted her chin and held back from letting any emotion show. After too long of a pause, she said through gritted teeth, “May I pass, please? I have work to do.”
The Revinir smiled. “Of course, dear. Enjoy your day, and do tell a soldier whenever you are ready to work with me as my assistant. I assure you we’ll make a good pair.”
“It won’t ever happen,” said Thisbe. She pressed forward, leaning into her harness.
“All right,” sang the Revinir, “if you say so. But you know what that means. Tomorrow you can start delivering three bones. Nice big juicy ones. The heaviest, which are overflowing with dragony magical goodness. It’s past time to make another bone broth.” She smiled condescendingly. “I’ll convince you eventually.”
Three bones? Thisbe felt like her brain was boiling. She closed her fists and her eyes to stop anything tragic from happening before she was ready and pushed past the soldiers, walking as fast as she could go and blinded by fury. But she couldn’t escape the woman’s laughter, which rang in her ears.
At least Rohan was alive. But how was she going to find him?
A Breakthrough
Thisbe didn’t have time to wallow in her sorrows or wonder about how she was supposed to drag three bones to the extraction room the next day when she’d hardly been able to drag two. She didn’t have time to whine about how her shoulders and back and knees ached from her job.
She took the time to eat, of course. She was slowly growing thin on one meal a day, though her tray today seemed to have slightly more food than normal. Perhaps when the crypt keeper had heard about the Revinir’s insane order, he’d felt sorry for her. If so, she’d take his pity and the extra food. She needed all the fuel she could get.
Once she’d finished eating and was locked into her crypt for the night, Thisbe moved the stack of bones away from the hollow she’d made in the wall. Then she stood in the farthest corner away from it, near the door, and concentrated for several minutes, remembering the moment the Revinir had told her she had to take three bones tomorrow as punishment for not being willing to become her assistant.
Thisbe knew three bones wouldn’t be the end of this punishment. The woman was trying to break her, to convince her to be her assistant, and so far it wasn’t working. That wouldn’t make the woman pleased at all. She’d keep adding more bones until Thisbe couldn’t get the job done anymore and she’d have to give up.
But the Revinir didn’t know Thisbe very well. She wasn’t going to give up. As the food fueled her body, Thisbe’s anger fueled her magic, and soon she could feel fire pulsing through her forearms. She opened her eyes, electricity sparking at her fingertips. She needed to test some things. First she tried the most minimal move she could think of. She flicked her forefinger against her thumb, sending a line of sparks shooting toward the hole in the back wall. They hit a little left of center and made small divots. A bit of dirt trickled out
. “Okay, so a flick of the fingers probably would hurt someone but not destroy them,” Thisbe noted.
Next Thisbe decided to test her strongest move to see what the difference would be. She pulled her arm back, then took a few steps for momentum and flung her arm forward, pointing her forefinger at the hole and yelling “Boom!”
A fireball shot forth and slammed into the hole, making a small explosion that shook the walls and left a cloud of smoke and dust so thick Thisbe had to drop low to the ground to keep from choking. A piece of rock that had once been embedded in the wall came rolling down the bone pile at her, just missed, and slammed into the door behind her. Her sleeve was singed and smoking, and her forefinger burned in pain. She could see a blister forming on its tip. She cringed and sucked on it. “Well,” she murmured, sitting on the floor and waiting for the smoke to clear, “that was pretty powerful.”
After a moment she picked up a candle and climbed up the bone pile through the haze. At the back wall, she felt around the hole and peered in. She couldn’t tell how deep it went.
It was twice the diameter it had been before, easily wide enough for Thisbe to fit into if she curled up a little. She wrinkled her nose and shoved her head inside it, arm outstretched with the candle, trying to see what her magic had done. The candlelight flickered and shone in a circle, bouncing off the uneven walls of the hole. Thisbe crawled in and waved the smoke away.
Just then she heard a noise behind her at the door. She froze, then quickly backed out of her tunnel. She dropped her candle and began shoving the bone pile back in place to cover the hole.
Her door opened, and the crypt keeper looked inside. “What’s going on in here? Did you make that explosion? Where did all this smoke come from?”
Thisbe stared down at him, hoping desperately that he couldn’t see the gaping hole in the wall from his angle on the floor. “What?” she said weakly, stalling so she could think of an excuse. There was no use denying the smoke—it was obvious. “Oh, you mean this?” She waved her hand through the air and laughed a little. “It’s . . . really . . . nothing. . . .”
“It doesn’t look like nothing.” He took a step inside and tried to wave some of the haze out of the room so he could see better. “What did you do?”
“I—I accidently set my clothes on fire with the candle,” said Thisbe sheepishly. “I’ve been trying to sort the dragon bones. Used ones over here, you see, and the ones that haven’t been extracted go down toward the floor so they’re easier to get to. Anyway, I knocked over my candle when I was moving today’s bones up here and set my shirt on fire. Burned my finger, too. It hurts pretty bad.”
“That wouldn’t make that explosion sound,” the crypt keeper said, looking suspicious. “It rocked this whole section of the catacombs.”
“Oh, that! I have no idea what that was,” said Thisbe. “I felt it too, but I didn’t have anything to do with that. Maybe it was an earthquake. That’s . . . actually . . . what made me knock over my candle.” She coughed and waved the smoke aside. “Very startling.”
The crypt keeper looked frightened, which puzzled Thisbe. But then his expression changed, and he narrowed his eyes at her. “The Revinir said you were more evil than good, which means you probably lie a lot.”
Thisbe stared at him. He’d voiced her fears, and she didn’t like the sound of them. She gathered her wits. “With all due respect, sir,” she said, “perhaps the Revinir, who is the evilest person we’ve all met, is the one who is lying about my level of evilness. After all, you know she seems to have it in for me, don’t you?”
The crypt keeper’s mouth opened but then closed again. He frowned, then said, “That’s true. And . . . it may be the smoke fogging my sensibilities, but I don’t think it’s fair what she’s doing to you.” He ducked his head and backed out of the crypt, then closed the door behind him.
Thisbe stood silent, letting his sympathetic words exist and ring about the room, almost as if they became stronger because they were the last ones spoken. She picked up the candle.
As time ticked forward without another interruption, she relaxed a bit and went back to rebuilding the bone pile, but she didn’t quite dare to explore the tunnel again in case Mangrel returned.
She could hear little pieces of the wall continuing to break off and fall inside the hole behind her, but she ignored the noise and focused on swiftly finishing the bone pile. Since the door had been opened, a lot of the smoke had dissipated, which Thisbe realized in retrospect had probably been what had prevented the crypt keeper from seeing the gaping hole before she could finish hiding it.
Soon Thisbe had constructed a significant cover in front of the hole. “There,” she said, placing one last bone. She took her candle and got ready to head back down, when she heard a sudden rushing sound of dirt and pebbles from inside the hole. She bent down and peered inside. When her eyes adjusted to the darkness, she realized she could see a tiny crack of light from the other side.
After a moment, the crack split wide and someone pounded the rest of the wall away, revealing a candlelit face peering back at her. Rohan smiled wearily through the tunnel. “My goodness,” he said admiringly. “What a beautiful sculpture you’ve created while I was away. It almost appears as if you might have missed me a little.”
A Heart-to-Heart
Throwing caution to the wind and her candle to the bones, Thisbe dove into the tunnel and helped Rohan clear out his end of it. “You should build a pile too, so the tunnel can’t be seen from your door,” she said. “I’ll help you.”
Together they made quick work of it. When they were finished, they climbed back inside the tunnel and sat with their backs curling to the curve of the wall, facing each other in the short passageway that connected their rooms. Thisbe retrieved her candle, relit it, and set it between them, then peered at her friend. The shadows under his eyes seemed pronounced, and his eyes were weary.
“Are you okay?” Thisbe asked him.
“I’m pretty tired,” he said.
“Do you want to go to sleep?”
“I’d rather talk with you.”
Thisbe’s face burned, and she shifted the candle away from her so Rohan wouldn’t be able to see the color rise to her cheeks. He had such a strange way of talking, unlike Seth or any other boy Thisbe had known. Definitely not like Dev. The way he said whatever he meant with no hesitation was as intriguing as some of his word choices.
“Where have you been?” Thisbe asked.
“Have you missed my rapping on your wall?” A smile played at his lips. “I was so glad you responded. I thought you might be angry with me.”
“No, I wasn’t angry. I just didn’t want to get you in trouble by talking to you. But it seems like you got punished anyway. I’m sorry. So . . . where have you been?” she asked again.
Rohan’s eyes glistened in the candlelight. “To the castle.”
“On foot? All that way? How?” Thisbe remembered the lengthy ride she and Fifer had had from the castle to Dragonsmarche. It would take a tremendously long time to go that far on foot—at least a day.
“Yes, on foot. And in fact, these catacombs lead all the way to the castle dungeon. I’d never gone that far before in that direction.”
“What’s over there? Why did the Revinir have you go so far?”
“The crypts of the ancient human rulers are over there. Our ancestors.”
“Oh.” The statement weighed heavy on Thisbe. She’d never spent much time thinking about her ancestors before her time in the catacombs. She’d known little about her family’s past, other than that her parents had died when she was a toddler. Her mother had black eyes, which was where she and Fifer had gotten theirs. Had their mother come from here? Or perhaps her grandparents? There was no record of such things in Quill. No history. No writings or stories—it hadn’t been allowed. The only record of her parents’ life and past had died with them.
Rohan touched Thisbe’s singed sleeve. “Are you all right?”
Thisbe pulled
away from her thoughts and looked up. “Yes,” she said. “I’m just thinking about what you said. About your . . . our . . . ancestors being buried a day’s journey away.” She swallowed hard and looked at him. “I don’t know any history of my family. Do you . . . I mean, are you sure . . . that I’m descended from rulers like you? I just don’t really feel like my family was . . . you know. Strong and noble like that. They . . . they weren’t. I’m pretty sure.” All she could think about was how her parents had sent their creative son, Alex, to his death. How they might have done the same with her if that practice in Quill had continued. That didn’t seem noble at all. It seemed cowardly.
Rohan pressed his lips together. “There was a time about forty years ago when our people were worried about being tortured and killed—the uprising was already happening. Some of our grandparents tried to save their children by sending them away from here. Perhaps your mother was one of them.”
“But how would she have gotten over there? Across the gorge?”
“The worlds were connected back then.”
Thisbe blinked. “They were?”
“Do you remember seeing the narrow waterfall that drops to nowhere off the side of the cliffs of Grimere?”
Thisbe nodded.
“It used to be a river that ran to the sea in your world. And your sea didn’t end in a waterfall spinning around your world. It butted up against our cliffs.”
“What split the worlds apart?”
“An earthquake. We have them now and then. Not to be confused with the volcano in the crater lake that rattles Grimere, of course.” Rohan’s voice was teasing.
“Of course,” Thisbe said with a smile. “No wonder the crypt keeper looked freaked out when I suggested the big explosion earlier was an earthquake.”
