Spiriting a child away from the Tithing Festival wasn’t going to be easy. The census takers made sure that all children who had turned eight years old attended, so I’d need to find a way to strike his name from the list. But I’d dealt with census takers before, and Imperial soldiers, and even the Emperor’s constructs.
I smoothed the front of the uniform jacket and went to the door. I should have drawn aside the curtains, or cracked the door to look beforehand. But the quake had unsettled my nerves, and I was close to finding the boat that had taken Emahla. I was close to an answer. So instead, I stepped back into the narrow street, the sunlight hot on my face, wide-eyed and unsteady as a newborn lamb.
And found myself in the midst of a phalanx of Imperial soldiers.
3
Jovis
Deerhead Island
If only the street were busy, or loud, or anything but quiet and still. Ten uniformed men and women turned their attention to me. Sweat prickled in the small of my back.
“Soldier,” one of them said. The pins at her collar marked her as a captain. “You’re not one of mine. Who is your captain?”
Lies were well enough when you had substance to back them with. “Sir, I was with the first company to disembark.”
She peered at my face, frowning, offering me nothing.
“Lindara’s?” another soldier in the phalanx asked.
“Yes,” I said in a tone that implied this was obvious, and the soldier foolish for verifying.
But the way the captain examined my features had me wanting to sink my chin into the collar of the uniform. Still studying me, she said, “You should be with your captain. This isn’t a pleasure outing.”
“I understand. It won’t happen again.”
“Did you happen to see another soldier around? Short, stocky, big nose and stinks of star anise.”
I’d seen him, though we’d not become acquainted. His uniform and I had become intimately acquainted, however. I hoped fervently that the smell of fish and seaweed covered the scent lingering on my jacket. “No, I’m afraid not, sorry. And you’re right, I should be with my captain.” I turned to go.
A hand landed on my shoulder. “I didn’t dismiss you,” the captain said.
Oh, I would have made a terrible soldier. “Sir?” I pivoted back and did my best to wear “deferential” better than I wore this jacket.
Her fingers tightened around my shoulder and she squinted at my face. “I’ve seen you before.”
“Probably digging latrine ditches. Lindara doesn’t like me much.” The other soldiers cracked grins, but the captain was uncrackable. I ran through all the tried and true tricks in my mind. Flirting with her would probably get my head chopped off. Self-deprecation didn’t throw her off. Flattery maybe?
“No,” she said. “There’s something about your face.”
Damn the Empire and their pettiness over a small bit of stolen witstone. Damn their power over both men and magic. But most of all, damn their stupid posters. “My face?” I said, to buy some time. “Well, it’s—”
The ground beneath me shook again, and this time it shook harder. Everyone eyed the buildings above, hands out in vain attempts to stave off falling walls with fingers. A tile fell from the roof behind me, shattering on the stones by my feet. The shaking stopped.
“That’s another one,” one of the soldiers said. “Two in one day.” He sounded anxious. Truth be told, I didn’t like it much either. Sometimes there were small aftershocks, but this one had been stronger than the first.
The captain turned her attention back to me. Her eyes narrowed.
I cleared my throat and straightened my shoulders. “Should we be at the square, captain? It’s nearly time for the Festival.”
I’d finally hit the right note – respect and discipline. The captain’s hand dropped from my shoulder. “We’ll have to find our comrade later. We’ve a duty to fulfill.” She strode up the street, beckoning for the others to follow.
I saw a couple of hands reach behind right ears to touch their trepanning scars. I wondered if they remembered that day as crisply as I did. I fell into step behind them – I had business at the Tithing Festival too after all. I might be a liar, but I kept my word. Always kept my word. So I put my legs into it and climbed the hill with the rest of them. The stones beneath my feet shifted as I trod upon them, loosened by the quake. The street opened up at the top of the hill, joining with two others.
The man in front of me turned around to check the view when we reached the top. His face paled, his eyes widening. “Captain!”
I whirled, wondering what it was he saw.
The narrow street wended behind us, buildings looming over it, pressed together like teeth. Dust glittered in the air, but this wasn’t what had captured the soldier’s attention. Down by the ocean, something had changed. The outline of the harbor had widened. The docks lay at strange angles to one another. There were dark shapes near the shore, jutting from the water.
The tops of bushes. The harbor had sunk.
The captain regarded this revelation with a grim set to her mouth. “We go to the square,” she said. “We tell the other two phalanxes. Keep calm, keep order. I don’t know what this means, but we stick together.”
It was a testament to her leadership that the soldiers fell into step behind her.
I eyed the docks behind us. Promises were well and good, but I’d also promised Emahla I’d find her – and I couldn’t very well do that if I were dead. I thought of Danila folding dumplings for her nephew’s Festival feast. After mine, my normally reticent mother had held me close, kissed the top of my sweaty hair. “I wish I could have protected you,” she’d said. She hadn’t known then that I’d been spared. I’d barely known it myself. The square wasn’t too far now, and I was a quick runner.
So despite my dread, I followed the soldiers. The air had gone still; no voices, no birds calling, only our footsteps scraping against stone. After another turn and a climb, the stillness gave way to murmuring. Ahead, the street widened into the city square.
Deerhead Island wasn’t the largest of the known islands, but it was one of the wealthiest. I’d heard natives brag about their spicy fish soup, their vast markets, and had even heard one claim that Deerhead floated higher in the water than other islands. Their witstone mine produced a good deal of the Empire’s supply, and the square was yet another reflection of this wealth. The stones beneath our feet became smooth, laid in patterns. A raised pond adorned the center of the square, bridges leading to a gazebo in the middle. The vine-like carvings on the gazebo marked it as one of the few Alanga-era structures still standing in one piece. It would have been a place I’d liked to have visited with Emahla. She would have given me a sly, sidelong look: “So why did the Alanga build that?” And I would have launched into a story about how this graceful building was merely one of their outhouses. She would have laughed and added in her own details. “Of course. Who doesn’t dream of relieving themselves in a gazebo?”
But she wasn’t actually here.
I stopped at the mouth of the street, waiting until the soldiers in front of me had made their way to the other end of the square. Dozens of children stood there, hemmed in by Imperial soldiers. Like sheep being led to a slaughter. Some were calm but most looked nervous, and several of them openly wept. They’d have been dosed up with opium to make them docile and to dull the pain. I strode closer and searched their ranks. Red shirt, flowers on the hem. Too many children in red.
It shouldn’t have been me doing this. It should have been one of the Shardless Few, with their romantic ideals about freedom and an Empire ruled by the people. I wasn’t an idealist. Couldn’t afford to be.
The earth moved. Dust shook loose from the tiled roofs and I struggled to keep my feet underneath me. Panic jolted to the tips of my fingers. An aftershock, fine, yes. Three quakes in one day, and the sinking of the harbor – this wasn’t anywhere close to normal. At the other end of the square, the soldiers crouched around their
charges, hands going to weapons as though that might help. The census taker presiding over the Festival hunched over his book. The children watched the buildings shake with wide eyes.
I steadied myself at the edge of the fountain, counting. One, two, three, four . . .
At five, my throat tightened. At ten, I knew this shaking might not stop. Something terrible was happening. I could feel it to the very marrow of my bones. As soon as I felt it, I could walk again. If the world was ending, then just waiting around for it to end would help no one, least of all myself.
A boy in the group of children seemed to sense the same thing I did. He rose from his crouch and ran. One of the Imperial soldiers caught him by the shirt.
Red shirt, flowers at the hem. Alon, Danila’s nephew. Short for eight years old, with a mop of black hair that threatened to overwhelm him.
Duty held the soldiers together like a piece of fishing string. A hard push and they’d snap. I ran toward them, stumbling as the ground shifted. “The island is sinking! I’ve seen this happen before,” I lied. I didn’t have to try at all to sound panicked. “Get to the ships, get out of here before it takes us all with it!” I couldn’t be sure if I was exaggerating or not, but I wasn’t about to stick around to find out.
The soldiers stared at me for a moment, stricken, the buildings behind them rumbling.
“You!” the captain called to me. “Get back in line.”
With a sound like thunder, a building on the opposite side of the square collapsed. With that, the string tying the soldiers together snapped. They ran. Children and soldiers buffeted me, threatening to knock me to the ground. I reached through the crowd and seized Alon’s arm. So small I could fit my entire hand around it. “Your Auntie Danila sent me,” I told him, shouting to be heard above the rumbling earth. I’m not sure if he heard me, but he didn’t try to slip from my grasp. That was something. “We need to run. Can you do that?”
This time, he nodded at me.
I caught a glimpse of the faces of the other children – panicked but still placid, their steps unsteady. Their parents, their aunts and uncles would come. A lie, a lie – my mother’s voice. I shook it off. I couldn’t help them all. “Deep breaths,” I said, and then ran, still holding on to Alon’s arm. The boy might have been short, but he could keep a decent pace. We dashed around the pond and back toward the docks.
My heartbeat pounded in my ears. The narrow street now felt like a chasm, one into which we were falling without hope of escape. Another building to our left teetered, beams breaking. The soldiers behind us screamed as I yanked Alon forward, just out of the way of the collapsing facade. Dust swept across the paving stones, climbing into my nose. I tried not to think of the soldiers now buried in the rubble, the people that might have been inside. I had to focus on keeping us alive. Alon began to cry, a high-pitched keening sound. “I want my mother!” he sobbed, pulling at my grip.
Oh, child. I did too. She’d sat through hurricane winds, ignoring the rattling shutters and the wailing wind as if they were merely overwrought children. I promised myself – I would find a way to visit home again if I lived through this. “Listen,” I shouted, “you need to run. If you don’t, you’ll never see her again.” The words shut him up more cleanly than a slap. There wasn’t time to regret them. I wasn’t big or strong enough to carry him.
I thought I recognized the doorway to the drinking hall, but Danila would have to make her own way out. The ground jolted, throwing me into the wall of a building, my shoulder catching the brunt of it. I pulled on Alon’s arm to keep him upright. The air was hazy; it made my eyes water. But between the gaps in the buildings I could see blue ocean and blue skies. We skidded down the uneven stones. A falling tile hit Alon on the shoulder and he reached for the wound. I pulled him along before he could touch it, merciless.
And then the air cleared and we were at the docks, a cloud billowing behind us as though we’d brought this destruction with us. Despite the shaking and the destruction, people hadn’t yet filled the harbor. They hesitated on the edge of that precipice: is it bad enough? Will I feel foolish when this is all done? What of the belongings I’ve left behind?
Fear nipped at my heels, and I knew by now to pay heed to my fear. The thought of remaining on this island filled me with a dread I couldn’t name. Maybe this would all stop, the island having sunk only a few measures. But maybe it wouldn’t, and it was the second maybe that roared in my mind.
A few people tried to get into the Imperial boats – searching for protection – but were warned off by the soldiers. Others made for their fishing boats. A hulking construct with the face of a long-beaked bird did its best to stop each of them. “Please declare your goods before leaving,” it croaked out. “The shipping and sale of unauthorized goods may result in fines and imprisonment. Sir, I need to perform a randomized search of your cargo hold.” Bureaucrat constructs were my least favorite. I waited until it was occupied with someone else. “Alon,” I said to the boy, “that’s my boat out there, at the end of the dock.” Wood creaked and groaned behind us; stones ground against one another. “The dock is unmoored. We need to swim. I’m going to let go of your wrist now, but you’ll need to follow me. Kick off your shoes if they weigh you down.”
I didn’t wait to see if he nodded; I ran for the water while the construct’s back was turned. It couldn’t do much without Imperial soldiers backing it up, but this wasn’t the time I wanted to be attracting undue attention. The ocean’s surface jittered with the shaking earth, obscuring my reflection. I saw, with a shock, that the backs of my hands were gray with dust and dotted with blood. No time to check for injuries. I plunged into the water. Here, in the harbor and at the end of the dry season, it was as warm as the surrounding air. I took my own advice, kicking off my shoes as soon as the water came to my chest.
Anchors still weighed the docks to the ocean floor, so they’d only shifted instead of completely floating free. Each stroke felt surreal, brought me back to swimming in the ocean as a child, even as the island behind me fell to pieces. I seized the edge of the dock and climbed up, splinters digging beneath my fingernails.
Alon was only a short distance behind me. Good boy – he’d kicked off his shoes. I bent to help him onto the dock. My boat was moored at the other end, swaying gently in the water. It was a small thing – big enough for some decent cargo and for weeks at sea, but smaller was quicker. Smaller meant less witstone used when I had the use of it at all. This far from the dust and falling buildings, my mind cleared. “There’s my boat,” I told the boy, and this time I didn’t have to shout. “We’re going to your parents.”
He followed me like a little lost lamb.
As soon as I was aboard, years of training took over. Checking the lines, undoing the docking line, hoisting the sail. The cacophony from the island faded to a dim sound in the back of my mind. My father had started teaching me to sail as soon as I could walk. Here, on the boat, my feet were steadier beneath me than on the quaking island.
Alon found a seat at the bow, and he sat there, mute and shivering.
A crack filled the air, loud as thunder. I looked back and swallowed. The island was sinking, the harbor now nearly fully submerged, the buildings at the edge creeping into the water. This wasn’t going to be enough. I had to do something, get away faster.
The witstone. I scrabbled at the cargo hatch, and then at the loose boards below. The boxes of witstone lay beneath. Anyone who knew my boat could see it was sitting lower in the water than it normally did, but there were few who knew my boat the way I did. I grabbed a handful of the white, chalky stuff, pushed myself up and dumped it into the brazier.
I could have been gone, long gone if I’d not stopped for the boy. If I’d not stopped to ask after the boat that had taken my Emahla. But ifs couldn’t save me now. I fumbled with the flint and then struck it against the side of the brazier. Sparks showered onto the witstone; it caught fire as easily as if it had been chaff.
White smoke surged forceful
ly from the brazier, bringing with it a gust of wind that caught the sail and filled it. My ship lurched forward toward the harbor opening – which was now twice as wide as it had been when I’d arrived. Sweat traced tracks down the side of my face. The sun had risen higher in the sky and the heat of it licked at the back of my neck. It didn’t seem fitting that the world should end on a cloudless day.
I blew on the flaming witstone and adjusted the mainsail. We weren’t the only ones speeding out of the harbor, but we were among the first. On the ocean, my heartbeat calmed, though my fingers still trembled. I caught a look at Alon, still sitting and shivering at the bow, arms wrapped around himself. The swim hadn’t washed all the dust from his face. His eyes widened as he stared at the island behind us. I risked a glance back.
The scale of destruction stole the breath from my lips. Half the buildings in the city had collapsed – nothing more than rubble. A gray plume of dust and smoke rose into the air, obscuring the trees. Flocks of birds had risen from the trees, dark specks among the plume.
“Auntie Danila . . .” Alon said.
Sometimes one was enough. One had to be enough. I swallowed. “She might have made it out, lad – don’t despair yet.” Around us in the water, I saw other shapes moving away from the island – goats, deer, cats, dogs, even rabbits and mice – all swimming, all abandoning the island. The deep stirred, the scales of some giant creature breaking the water briefly before it dove back down. I caught glimpses of fins and bright spots of luminescence. Even the beasts that lived on the underside of the floating island were leaving. Dread burrowed at the base of my neck, prickling down my spine.
The island trembled more violently, sending more of the city tumbling to the ground. The ground began to sink in earnest, as lazily as a person slipping into a bath. My mind calculated out the problem before my heart could believe it. If the island sank completely, the water would rush to fill the space left behind, creating a whirlpool.
If we did not get far enough away, we’d be pulled in. “By all the Alanga,” I murmured. We were moving quickly, but not quick enough. We’d barely cleared the harbor. I threw more witstone onto the fire, wiping the chalky dust off on the jacket. My little boat jumped in the water, but then slowed once more. I could see the eddies and currents, moving other boats about without regard for the wind. Someone on one of the boats screamed.
The Bone Shard Daughter: The Drowning Empire Book One Page 3
